THE HUNGER GAMES PEETA'S POV
by markwatney
Summary: We all know Katniss' story, but this is how it went in Peeta's mind from every single step of the way. I will be following each chapter of the books, and will do all three books. This is first, The Hunger Games. What actually goes on inside the boy with the breads head? Hope you enjoy, please read and review, I would really love it!
1. Chapter 1

**PART ONE | THE TRIBUTES**

 **CHAPTER ONE**

* * *

When I wake up, the house smells faintly of sweet bread. My arms stretch out, shaking the remnants sleep off my muscles but finding them stiffening with my nervous energy. I wasn't sure how my body already knew before my brain, but now I remembered. This is the day of the reaping.

I prop myself up on one elbow. There's enough light filtering through the patchy curtains to see that I'd slept too long into the morning. My brothers must've already woken up; I could hear their muffled voices clattering in the kitchens below my room.

As I shift my body upright, I noticed that my father had left a small pastry beside my bed. It sat on a rose chipped plate, one of the few in a set that my mother didn't smash when she was in an angry fit. Mother hates me. Or at least wishes I was more like my brothers. Even though it was years ago, I think she still remembers how I deliberately burnt pieces of bread to feed, in her words, a "rat searching for food". I still remember how hard she hit me that day. The bruises on the side of my head, the stars I kept seeing for a few days afterwards. Father begged her to stop, but nothing can stop mother in a rage. Despite all of it, I still cook for her everyday, and she let's me eat a hearty meal at dinnertime.

Cooking. Eating. This is the closest we will ever come to love.

I swing my legs off the bed and slide into my black leather boots. They're old, stained with flour and burnt in some places. I tie the laces tightly and slip on some loose khaki trousers, shoving my blonde mess of hair into a mesh cap and rush down the stairs. On the table is the remains of the breakfast I had missed. My stomach growls angrily, wishing it had woken me up in time for food. But I couldn't dwell - I had to get to work. It was a few more hours until the reaping, and my mother expected the bread to be baked and cakes to be decorated.

My part of District 12, nicknamed the Merchant section, is usually crawling with shopkeepers trying to get businesses set up and drag customers in. Men and women who all seem so much more well-fed than those who live in the Seam, yet struggle internally, never knowing when their marginal luck will run out. Business is difficult in these times. But today, many businesses are closed. Shutters down, lights out. The reaping isn't until two. Barely anybody wants to buy anything on reaping day.

We still open up the bakery, though, which is located just on the edge of the Merchant section. You only have to pass a few other shops before you get into the Seam, the coal miners part of District 12. In theory, we don't get a lot of customers on reaping day, but mother doesn't take any chances. We're lucky to get two or three people buying anything, really. Sometimes we do get traders, but I'm never able to deal with them. Especially if it's... her. Katniss.

As soon as my mind reaches back to her, I'm flashed with the images that haunt me ever since I threw her the bread I burnt. It was raining, I was young. She was huddled beside a tree, covered in wet mud, looking as if she was wasting away. I could barely see her; the rain was so thick and coming down in sheets of ice. I didn't have to linger on her hunched over body... I knew what was happening. She was starving. She didn't have long. I knew what I had to do.

Even though I knew my mother would kill me, I took two of our largest loaves that were cooking in the amber glow of the oven and let them touch the fire. It licked the bread, burning it instantly. The smell of burning bread flew through the room, reaching my mothers nostrils in seconds. She screamed. "You stupid, stupid little boy!" She slapped me round the face, making my cheek glow as red as the fire in the ovens. "It's ruined, it's ruined you worthless boy! Feed it to the pigs!" she demanded, grabbing my shirt and pushing me out the door.

I stepped out down the stairs and more into the wet, rainy garden, my legs shaking. I knew the worst wasn't over with my mother. What she'd already done was nothing. When I had given this bread to the pigs, it would be much worse than a hand shaped slap on my cheek.

She was still as ever. I wasn't even sure she had noticed anything that gone on. I wasn't sure she was alive still. What if I was too late? I tore a small burnt chunk off, throwing it toward the pig pen. My mother seemed slightly satisfied and slipped into the bakery for a moment, rather than watch me chuck all of the bread to the pigs. As soon as she'd gone, I threw the now slightly soggy bread right toward Katniss. One of them hit her slightly, rousing her starving stupor. She looked at me full of confusion, trying to foggily place the puzzle pieces together.

I didn't get to see what happened after. I had to take myself back to my mother for the punishment that was waiting for me. By the morning, she wasn't there and I knew she'd taken the bread and was okay. I had never felt so much relief.

"Peeta!" my father called for me. I look up, feeling the muscles in my face tightening in confusing as I wiped my flour covered hands on my apron. I walk into the main bakery to see Madge Undersee, the mayors daughter. The sight of her waiting there brings a smile to my face.

"Hey Peeta," says Madge. She is dressed expensively, in a crisp white dress and pink ribbons. Reaping clothes.

"Why don't you guys go back into the kitchens? There's a few pastries here you can have," my father offers. Madge smiles at him and begins to walk past me into the back room. I look questioningly to my father before following her. "Mothers gone out." he whispers. I nod with understanding. If she was here, there was no way Madge would be allowed back or I would be allowed to take a break. This was a slice of luxury for both of us.

"Look what I got." she says once I join her. She is already sitting down on a wooden stool, nibbling on a pastry. I see a basket of fresh strawberries on the table that look so decadent I reach for one straight away.

"Where'd you get these?" I ask as the fruity explosion burst on my mouth. My mouth floods with saliva. I've forgotten how long it's been I'd had such fresh, beautiful fruit.

She gives me a look that immediately tells me the strawberries were from Katniss. I swallow down the strawberry, hard. "Careful, you don't want to choke." she joked, before softening her blue eyes. "You really need to tell her how you feel, you know."

"No, I don't." I say, taking another strawberry.

She huffs. "So what're you gonna do? Just... love her distantly, and kind of creepily, forever and ever?"

I smile. She jokes with me about my crush on Katniss often, but I try not to be too mindful of it. There's not a whole lot Madge and I have in common, but that doesn't stop us from being good friends. One thing that we do have in common is Katniss. They stick together at school in lunches, assemblies, sports. It didn't take her very long to notice how much I stare sometimes and work out that I was kind of, sort of, in love with her friend.

We munch on the pastries and fruit in silence. My mind keeps wandering back and forth to the reaping. How unfair it is. Poor people similar to Katniss bare the worst of the system, having to enter their names in the pool more times in exchange for food. Whereas people like Madge, a mayors daughter, doesn't have to enter her name in for food. Even though I know it's more likely someone who had to exchange their name for tesserae, I still fear for people like Madge. The odds aren't in anyone's favour.

Madge and I make small chit chat, keeping each others nerves at bay with simple company, we finish off our spoils. "I guess I should let you get ready for the reaping, then." she says quietly.

My fingers shake. "I guess so."

She nods. "See you in the square... Wear something pretty." she says, winking. I can't help but give a grin, despite my nerves.

I watch as she leaves, listening to the bell of the door ring as she presumably makes her way to the square. My brothers are now dressed and ready where Madge and I were sitting, alongside my father. Attendance is mandatory for the reaping; unless you're about to die. Even then the officials will knock on your door to check on you. If you don't go, you're imprisoned.

Upstairs, I draw a small tub of hot water for me to bathe in. I scrub the flour and icing off my skin and from under my fingernails. I pour a bucket of water over my head, rubbing my fingers in my hair to wash it. To my surprise, my mother had come back during the time I was washing. She had steamed and folded the clothes I was supposed to wear for the reaping. A soft white shirt and pinstripe trousers.

I dry my body off to dress, and slick my hair back to look more formal. Once I'm dressed, I thank my mother for pressing my clothes. "You look good." she compliments. It seems small, but for my mother, it's one of the nicest things she's said to me in months. Reaping days make even her ice cool interior melt slightly.

The clock strikes one, letting us all know it's time to head to the square. We head out the door, my mother locking the bakery tightly. We will back in an hour or so.

Once we reach the main part of the District, I can begin to see the pens they hold the children in; I can begin to see the cameras perched like birds on the rooftops and I can begin to see the babbles of Peacekeepers take blood samples to sign people in.

I find myself standing with a bunch of other sixteen year old boys, all as nervous as me, shaking against each other as they shove more and more of us into the barriers. The attention is focused on the stage before us, looming and dark despite the colourful banners that read: ' _Welcome to the 74th Hunger Games'._ On the stage are three chairs and a podium, but I don't look at them or what they symbolise. Instead, I look at the two large glass bowls, full to the brink with tiny folded envelopes with names on. Five of them have Peeta Mellark written on them in careful handwriting.

Madge's father, Mayor Undersee, finds his seat. He is a tall, balding man who has never been the same since his wife's illness took over his life. Effie Trinket, the escort for District 12, joins the seat next to him. They wait patiently, as they do every year, for Haymitch Abernathy, the only mentor who still lives. He won his Games almost 25 years ago and uses alcohol to make his concious moments bearable. Family members crowd the perimeter, their pale faces in the clutches of anxiety. There are a handle of people who have little care for the reaping. Everyone who they once loved or cared for has gone, so instead they take bets on what names are going to be pulled out the glass bowls.

By 2 o'clock, the reaping is meant to start despite Haymitch not being there. The mayor clears his throat and steps up to the podium, beginning to read the same tale told every year at every reaping. The one of how Panem came to be, how it fell into ashes and so came the Dark Days. He lists the disasters, the wars, the storms. The Treaty of Treasons was created, giving us the Hunger Games, to remind us of the death and pain that the Dark Days created, and to stop the Districts from ever rebelling again.

The Games are simple. Each district enters a boy and a girl at random, giving 24 tributes in total. They've shoved into an arena that holds anything from freezing wastelands to burning deserts. The last person standing is the winner. This is the way the Capitol shows us that they're in charge. Shows us that we are just pieces in a game where nobody really wins apart from them.

"It is bot a time for repentance and a time for thanks," the mayors monotone voice through the speakers concludes, pulling me out of my thoughts. At this moment, Haymitch chooses to finally arrive on stage. He is a middle-aged man with a blonde, raggedy beard and uncut hair. He staggers to his seat. He is drunk. Very drunk. He tries to give Effie Trinket, the District 12 escort sent from the Capitol, a sloppy hug but she's repulsed by the motion. She's too surprised to fend him off properly, but she manages to wrangle him to his seat with a fuss. Her pale face reddens, knowing that she's representing the laughing stock of Panem right now.

The mayor tries to diffuse the situation by introducing Effie to the stage to start the actual reaping itself. She pulls up a bubbly and bright front to her expression before trotting over to the podium. "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be _ever_ in your favour!" she says, trying to readjust her pink curls slightly after her encounter with Haymitch. "It is an honour and a privileged to be here in District 12 today..." she babbles, clearing lying through her perfectly bleached teeth. Everyone knows she's dying to get moved to a more successful District where they actually give out some victors, not drunk losers who topple you over on live television.

My mind wanders slightly as she dabbles on about the Games and how exciting this year will be. Through the crowd, I see a brown-haired braid. Katniss. I can barely take my eyes from her. She stares so viciously at Effie, so much concentration in her brow. Suddenly, I am thinking of how many names of hers are in that big glass bowl and how the odds are not in her favour. Not compared to girls like Madge, anyway. My heart palpitates in my chest harshly.

"Ladies first!" Effie announces. She crosses over, walking daintily in her spiky heels, to the bowl; dipping her manicured nail deep into the ball and shuffling the paper around. She pulls out a piece, and the crowd draws in a breath. The mood is grizzly. The name she reads out may as well be dead already. I'm feeling so nauseous and desperately hoping that it's not her, it's not her, it's not her.

In a clear voice, she reads out the name. And it's not Katniss.

It's her sister.


	2. Chapter 2

**PART ONE | THE TRIBUTES**

 **CHAPTER TWO**

* * *

One time, when I had just suffered a particularly bad bruising from my mother, I went into the garden to calm myself down for a few moments. I began to cry silently, letting tears roll freely down my cheeks. The sunset was beautiful colours of candied pink and orange, and I kept looking out toward it. It was beautiful. Just as my tears were slowing down, I noticed a figure in the distance. It was Katniss. She had a quiver strapped to her back and a bow lazily drooping in her hand. She was standing without care in the clearing beyond the fence, staring straight at the sunset just like me. Everything about that moment knocked the breath from me. I didn't even feel like it was real. It was too beautiful, and I didn't know how to deal with it.

That's how I feel now, except it's not beautiful at all. I'm trying to remember how to breathe, how to be a person, how to deal with what's unfolding around me. People around me are craning their necks to look at what's happening, to hear the shouting.

There must have been a mistake. This can't be happening. Prim is 12, and there is no way Katniss would have let her enter her name in for tesserae. She was one tiny little slip in thousands. Her chances of being chosen were so small, so slim. She was the most unlikely person to be chosen that I hadn't even thought about her the entirety of this morning. How could I not have even remembered that this was her first ever reaping? One slip. It was _one_ slip in _thousands_. The odds were in her favour, without a doubt. But it didn't matter. She'd been chosen.

The crowd was muttering unhappily, the way they always do when someone so young is chosen. It's normally at least someone my age or older, maybe 15 at a push. But it's the worst when a 12 year old gets chosen. Nobody think it's fair. They're always so small and skinny, dead already without even being in there yet. And then I see her, the blood evaporated from her face, hands clenched to her sides, walking stiffly and slowly toward the stage. She passes the row I'm in, her face unmoving but fear dwelling in her blue eyes. As she passes, I notice the back of her shirt sticking out of her skirt.

"Prim!" a strangled cry pierces the silence. I don't have to see her to know that it's Katniss, rushing toward her sister. "Prim!" she repeats, the kids making a passage for her to get through. She reaches her, pulling her in toward her and giving her a tight embrace before swiftly pushing Prim behind her in a protective fashion. I bite my lip, a million thoughts running through my head, but one sticks out the most. She's going to do it. She's going to take her place.

"I volunteer!" she gasps. "I volunteer as tribute!"

My whole body clenches, my hearts rapid beating suddenly stopping. A blanket of confusion settles upon the onlookers. District 12 hasn't had a volunteer in decades, and the whole system of how to do them properly has become rusty. In other Districts, it's a well oiled routine. Here, it's a suicide wish. And Katniss just volunteered to die.

"Lovely!" says Effie Trinket. "But I believe there's a small matter of introducing the reaping winner and then asking for volunteers, and if one does come forth then we, um..." she trails off, uncertain of her own words. I couldn't care less for them. I can barely process what's going on around me or inside of me.

"What does it matter?" the mayor replies. He looks toward Katniss with recognition. He must know her from Madge and hers friendship. Oh, god... Madge. Where is she? I can bare to think of how she's feeling, and I'm sure she is thinking the same of me too. "What does it matter?" he repeats. "Let her come forward."

Prim begins to scream. "No, Katniss! No! You can't go!" she wraps her arms around her sister, clutching her so tightly that her knuckles are practically see-through.

Katniss mutters something harshly in Prim's ear before she lets her go. She keeps a poker-face for the cameras, but every citizen of District 12 knows how she's really feeling inside. Katniss doesn't project her feelings for anything very much, but her sister is a notable exception. It doesn't take a genius to know how much she loves her sister.

Gale, Katniss' best friend, suddenly breaks through from the boys. He walks so silently for such a tall, muscular guy, but he strides over to Katniss and Prim with them barely noticing his arrival. He picks Prim from the ground, and she kicks her legs and arms in a useless protest. Even now, with everything going on, it's a little hard not to be jealous of that guy. He's the only person who Katniss ever lets in besides her sister.

She walks toward the stage, up the stairs steadily. "Well, bravo!" gushes Effie Trinket. "That's the spirit of the Games!" I can tell she's pleased with this disgusting turn of events, this slice of drama to perk up this years Games for an outline District that was expected nothing of. "What's your name?" she asks, shoving the microphone toward Katniss.

"Katniss Everdeen." she says.

"I bet my buttons that was your sister. Don't want her to steal all the glory, do we? Come on, everybody! Let's give a big round of applause to our newest tribute!" trills Effie.

But nobody claps. Not one single person. Instead, they stand silent and tall, comfortable in the knowledge of how wrong all of this. How disgusting it is. One person in the far distance kisses their middle three fingers before lifting them up in a salute. It's just the one at first, but then more and more people begin. It's an archaic type of thank you, a type of admiration, used in our District. It means goodbye to someone you love. I kiss my fingers with vigour before saluting them proudly in the air. I stare at her from the distance, wishing selfishly that she could see me, but mostly that I could do something, that I could change this all somehow. My heart aches with the love and care I hold for her.

I can see her begin to well up slightly, but Haymitch Abernathy choose the right moment to come staggering across the stage and halt any tears she may let out. He gets across the stage before throwing an arm around her, grasping her tightly "Look at her. Look at this one! I like her. Lots of... Spunk!" he announces triumphantly. "More than you! More than you!" he shouts, pointing directly toward the camera. A small intake of breath comes from the crowd. Is he actually so drunk that he's taunting the Capitol? But before he can say anything else that may hurt him, he plummets drunkenly off the stage and knocks himself out. The cameras go immediately to his downfall, once again pitting us as the laughing stock of Panem.

As Haymitch gets whisked away on a stretcher, Effie tries to get the crowd and the drama back to where it was before his sudden interruption. "What an exciting day!" she warbles, straightening her curls once more. I'm becoming convinced it's a wig as it seems so unstable, but my heartbeat is beginning to pick up again as I come to reality that the boy tribute is about to be picked. With everything that happened, I had forgotten my upcoming vulnerability. "But more excitement to come! It's time to choose our boy tribute!"

She crosses over to the glass bowl and grabs the very first slip her fingers touch before zipping back to the podium. I wonder right now what my mother is thinking; whether she is wishing for my safety and immunity, or just doesn't care to wish at all. It hurts that it is most likely that latter.

"Peeta Mellark."

 _Peeta Mellark. Peeta Mellark. Peeta, Peeta... Peeta Mellark_.

My ears ring, my sight goes blurry. I'm not sure I'm even still standing, but somehow my legs travel to the stage with steadiness built in them. I try to be like Katniss, I try to remain emotionless but once I take my place on stage, across from her, I see the faces in the crowd. I catch sight of my father. My brothers. Even my mother, who looks oddly at war with herself on how to feel about this. My face wavers, my entire nervous system being torn up.

Effie asks for volunteers, but no one steps forward. Both are too old. Even if they weren't, they probably wouldn't volunteer. In reality, that's normal. What Katniss did was the radical thing.

The mayor reads the Treaty of Treason, but I can't hear anything. Everything blurs. I don't even feel like I'm human right now. It slowly begins to dawn inside of me, like the sun at the break of day, that either Katniss lives or I live. There is no in between. Either I die, or she dies. Or both of us. Or both of us die.

I'm not sure which of the options is the one I want.

 _Why her?_ I think. She probably barely remembers our only ever real interaction with the bread, when she was near death. She's probably suppressed such a horrible memory. Either way, she has never said anything to me about that moment. I wish I could shake the connection I have with her. I wish I could stop caring. But I'm in love with her, and as much as I deny it to Madge, I know it to be true.

The mayor finishes his drone of the Treaty, and motions for me and Katniss to shake hands. It'll be the first time I've ever touched her. I am shaking for a whole new reason, even though the anxiety still bakes inside me. Her hands are small, deft and rough with callouses she'd gained from years of hunting in the woods. But they're warm, and she gives me a small reassuring squeeze back to what I think was a nervous spasm in my own hand.

We turn back to the face the crowd as national anthem of Panem begins to play out toward the crowds, waving goodbye to our District.

My eyes can't focus on the crowd. I'm too in shock. But I know, in that moment, that I've made my decision.

I die. And she lives.


	3. Chapter 3

**PART ONE | THE TRIBUTES**

 **CHAPTER THREE**

* * *

The moment the anthem ends, we are sent inside by a group of Peacekeepers into the Justice Building. It's like being taken in for custody, but without handcuffs. Why bother? We're already dead, after all. Well... I am. Katniss isn't.

Once inside, we're taken down different corridors and I lose sight of her. I'm made to go into a room where everything looks plush and expensive. I feel like it's the first taste of the Capitol I'm getting, and it already feels like I'm out of my depth. The carpets are so thick and rugged. I push my fingers into the wool, feeling it on my skin. The cooling sensation calms my nerves slightly, pulling me back into the reality I don't want to be in. The next hour is the last time I'll ever get to see my family, my friends and anyone I care about. They all get to say their goodbyes, and as sick as I feel, I can't believe I'm even here right now. I don't want to think about what this next hour will do to me if I'm already falling apart now.

My family all come into the room first. I get an awkward double hug from my brothers, who've never been good at showing emotion, before they release me and pat me on the back roughly. I can't help but picture the play fights and the rough-housing, the days of wrestling in the mud and teasing each other. My breath catches as the memories flit through my mind, and I hug them both again. No words are said; none need to be.

Mother comes in next. It's odd, having her hug me. She's skinnier than she seems, especially for a woman who has enough bread to eat to not be so slim. She pats my back in the same way my brother, but much less rough. When her hand hits my back, I find it hard not to flinch even though I know she's just patting me. "District 12 might finally have a winner." she says before releasing me from the hug and shoving me over to my father. I replay her comment over and over again... _District 12 might finally have a winner_. Did she mean me, or Katniss? But knowing my mother, she meant Katniss and she just said that to be spiteful.

Deep down, I know that I want Katniss to win. I want her to survive, to be the winner. But it hurts nonetheless, knowing my own mother doesn't believe in me. Doesn't care for her own sons death.

But now is my father. He sits down on the red velvet couch and beckons for me to sit next to him. I do so, and the first few minutes, we say nothing. He pulls me into a warm hug. A bakers hug: he smells of bread and sugar, and feels warm like the kitchens at the end of the day. Everyone else in the room evaporates from my mind; it's just me and my father. Amidst our hug, he breaks down in heart-wrenching sobs. His shoulders shudder, his chest heaves. I would barely be holding him up if it wasn't for the fact he was clutching onto me.

"I love you, son." he says, finally pulling away from me. He wipes his face with his sleeve, not caring about the marks it will leave.

A knock on the door makes us all jump, but it's simply a Peacekeeper signally that our time is up. I'm relived to see the back of my mother; but seeing my father leaves breaks my heart most of all. He leaves the last, turning just before he goes and giving me a small smile; the exact type of smile he would always give me after one of my mothers rages. It fills me with a bitter-sweet melancholy.

"Bye," I say, the word barely making it out of my throat.

I stay seated, not knowing how to move properly. I keep touching the velvet on the couch to make sure I stay in reality. I'm not left alone for long with my thoughts, which I'm glad about, before Madge walks into the room. She immediately pulls me in for a hug, her fingernails clutching at me. "Peeta-"

"I can't do this!" I burst out unexpectedly, interrupting her.

She holds me at arms length, her face strong and firm. "I won't lie to you. We both know better than that. I don't want the last things I say to you to be lies." I dip my head, feeling myself crumble at her words. "Hey, hey. Look at me, Peeta." she demands. I look into her eyes. They're so steady and focused on me that I can't help but listen even though I feel so out of reality. "You could die. You could. It's the Hunger Games. But you have a chance. I know you, I know how strong you are and I wouldn't say that just to give you false hope."

"But Katniss is in the arena, too. How... how do I...?"I begin, unable to finish my trains of thought.

"I know. And maybe... maybe she's what you need to win."

My eyebrows furrow. "What do you mean?"

She nods her head slightly, letting a shaky breath out. "I don't know. I just... I just don't think it's a coincidence that you two both got chosen." she says, looking back up at me and back to her focused glare. I don't know how to respond, so I pull her into me again. "I have to go. I need to see Katniss, too. I'm sorry."

"No, don't be sorry," I say, my words muffled in her blonde hair as I hug her. "I understand. I... I don't know how to say goodbye."

"Then don't." she says, squeezing me. She lets go of me and touches my cheek lightly. "You're a great friend, Peeta. You always have been."

She leaves, without looking back. This time I don't get much of a break between Madge and my next visitor, who turns out to be my childhood friend, Delly Cartwright. My memories are flit with small memories of days in the school yard with her playing games and messing around in the classroom. We grew slightly away as she got older, but we always stayed friends. Time passing between us never changed how we comfortable we felt around each other.

I began to cry as soon as she sat down next time, heaving sobs that racked through my chest like waves. She held me, with no words passing between us. She began to cry too. It only felt like a few seconds before the Peacekeeper tell Delly to leave. We didn't even get to talk. She was taken out of the room, her arm extended and waving at me.

The click of the door closing echoed around the room. My tears slowed down as I focused on my breathing to calm down. No one else came to visit me. Not my buddies from the wrestling team, not my classmates. I sat alone in the room for a little while before the Peacekeepers came back, grabbing my arm and dragging me out of the Justice Building and into a car.

I've never been in a car before. A wagon, sometimes, but we never actually owned one. It's so plush and smells odd, like fake freshness. Luckily, it's just a short ride to the train station and I don't have to be in it for much longer. I'm not sure I like the sensation of being in a car; it makes me feel nauseous.

As soon as the car gets to the station, I notice all the reports and paparazzi with their cameras following our every single movement, zooming in our faces and our movements. I know that I look weak, crying and red-nosed. It's a bad first impression. It reminds me of one tribute, Johanna Mason, a couple of years ago who looked exactly the same as I probably do right now. Snivelling and small. She pretend be a coward until the very end of the Games, where it turned out she could kill viciously. It was clever, but it wasn't exactly something I could pull off. I'm pretty broad and wide, unlike tiny Johanna.

I wouldn't want to do that, anyway. I don't want to be a part of this. It's all... wrong. Wrong.

Katniss and I stand an arms length apart from each other in front of the doorway of the train, letting the reporters get footage our faces and take as many pictures as they need. I can't help but feel my eyes shift over to Katniss. Her face is a blank slate, wiped out with an almost bored look. If I didn't know her any better, I would be fooled by her appearance and truly believe she didn't care.

Once we are all inside, the train begins to move. The speed rattles around me while I stand still, taking my breath away. A journey to the Capitol will take just less than a day due to the crazy speed the train goes. I'm forced to move when I realise that Katniss, Haymitch and Effie have walked into the main carriage and I'm standing alone in the entryway.

I follow them into the carriage, and I'm immediately taken away by the richness of the room. It's beautiful, but I don't have much time to look around before Effie tells me that supper will be ready in a hour and sends me off to get changed. I nod, unable to speak, and head to the dressing area that has been assigned to me. I find it insane that we're given a room despite being on this train for less than a day. The wealth of the Capitol is unbelievable.

My room is so posh, so gold and fit for royalty. The ornate drawers are filled with fine clothes, but first I head to the shower. I feel so puffy and gross from crying so much, and letting the warm water of the shower wash over me and refresh my mind. It helps calm me down and I fall back into my own sense of normality.

I'm in this beautiful room, a more beautiful room than I've ever been in. It completely contrasts with the events of today, which are already irrevocably changing me. I feel so dissociated from everything that's going on around me... but I know that I need to start realising that this is happening. This is real. If I want Katniss to survive, if I want her to get back to her sister and to win this and to have the life she deserves, then I need to start accepting the situation and working on making Katniss the victor.

I pull on some clothes and pinch my cheeks lightly to give them some colour before Effie pops her head round my door, calling me for supper. I follow her directions into the dining area where I find a glass table suited up with china dishes. I'm the first one here, so I just choose any seat to sit on. A minute or so later, Katniss joins at the table and sits in the chair next to me. Effie follows swiftly behind her and takes a seat across the table.

"Where's Haymitch?" she asks brightly.

"Last time I saw him, he said he was going to take a nap," I say, remembering back when we first entered the train and he was muttering away to himself before he disappeared into the carriage.

"Well, it's been an exhausting day," says Effie, looking almost relieved.

Despite Haymitch's absence, the supper comes in non-stop courses. A thick carrot soup, salad full of greens, lamb chops, mashed potatoes, cheese, fruits and chocolate cake. I know that more and more foods will keep coming, but I can't help but stuff myself with each of the decadent foods they bring. There's so much of it, and it all tastes like gold on my tongue.

"At least you two have decent manners," Effie notes just as we're finishing the main course. "The pair last year ate everything with their hands like a couple of savages. It completely upset my digestion."

Her comment completely upsets _my_ digestion, but I don't dare say anything to her. I'll be needing both her (and Haymitch's help) to keep Katniss alive, and I don't want to get on her bad side. But still, I can't help but feel my blood bubble in anger. How can she even say that about two children, two young and starving children who are now dead?

Katniss doesn't hide her anger in the same way I do. She makes a point of eating the rest of the meal with her hands and wipes them all over the white tablecloth. Effie purses her lips, but doesn't make another comment.

Once the meal is over, I feel almost green with sickness. The richness of the food is too much for my stomach to handle. I look over at Katniss and see that she looks just as rocky and nauseous as me. Effie beckons us to go into the main cabin once more to watch the recap of the other reaping across Panem. I've almost forgotten that other people are doing the exact same as us right now, going through the same thing. Everything is swirling around me.

One by one, we watch the reapings. Names that I forget almost immediately, but faces that I can't help but remember, with a few standing out in particular. Monstrous looking murders from District 1 and 2, a tiny 12 year old in District 11. A red-headed girl in 5 who looks like a serious competitor.

They show our District last. My heart seizes up watching the replay of Katniss volunteering for Prim, tearing into little pieces. I see my own face, crestfallen and breaking. I look so weak and small, especially when I pit myself against the giant men from 1 and 2. But as if to break the tension, they show Haymitch falling off the stage again.

"Your mentor has a lot to learn about presentation. A lot about televised behaviour." Effie says, disgruntled. I can't help but let a laugh out. It all feels so... ridiculous.

"He was drunk," I say. "He's drunk every year."

"Every day," Katniss adds, smirking a little. I look over to her, her comment diffusing the tension even more. I laugh a little bit more in response to her, my breath being taken away by her smile. My chest aches.

"Yes," Effie hisses, drawing my attention away from Katniss. "How odd you two find it amusing. You know your mentor is your lifeline to the world in these Games. The one who advises you, lines up your sponsors, and dictates the presentations of any gifts. Haymitch can well be the difference between your life and your death!"

The tension immediately returns with her speech, but just then, Haymitch staggers into the cabin. "I missed supper?" he slurs. He then vomits all over the expensive, plush carpet and falls into his own mess.

Effie looks down toward the mess. "So laugh away!" she exclaims before hopping into her pointed shoes and fleeing the room.


	4. Chapter 4

**PART ONE | THE TRIBUTES**

 **CHAPTER FOUR**

* * *

For a few seconds, Katniss and I stand observing Haymitch writhe and wriggle around in his own vomit. The stink of his mess and alcohol mixed together makes my dinner almost come back up. I look over to Katniss to find she's already looking at me. Her look says a lot. We both know that Effie as right. Haymitch isn't much of a mentor, but he's all we have. Once we're in the arena, we have nobody but him.

We don't say anything, but we both reach down to help pick him up and get him onto his feet. "I tripped?" he asks. He wrinkles his nose. "Smells bad."

"Let's get you back to your room," I say. "Clean you up a bit."

We half-lead, half-carry him back to his room, hauling him into the bathtub and turning on the shower. He barely notices, his face staying the same catatonic expression. I look toward Katniss, whose complexion looks slightly green and pale. "It's OK." I say to Katniss, letting her off the hook. "I'll take it from here."

"Al right," she agrees. "I can send one of the Capitol people to help you." she offers.

I don't even contemplate the idea before rejecting it. "No. I don't want them," I say. There's so many of workers on this train. Cooking for us. Waiting on us. Guarding us. They all think the same way Effie does and I can't stand it.

Katniss nods and heads back to her room, leaving me to sort Haymitch out. I know right now she's trying to size me up, trying to work out what my game is. She probably thinks I'm swatting up to Haymitch, trying to get on his good side so that he will get more sponsors for me rather than her so that I can live, but she couldn't be more wrong.

I wash Haymitch up in the shower, stripping him and cleaning the vomit chunks from his hair. He barely responds. Once he's clean, I drag him out the tub, dry him off, dress him in a pair of silk pyjamas and place him in bed. I'm soaking wet by the time I'm finished with Haymitch and completely exhausted, physically and emotionally.

The train rattles, the corridor only lit by small lamps. I want to look outside the windows, see the scenery, but the train is going so fast that everything is a dark blur. Instead, I find my way to my room. I slip on a pair of similar pyjamas to the pair I dressed Haymitch in and climb into the fluffy duvet. It's so soft and warm, just like my fathers' hugs. Remembering him makes me want to cry again, but I'm too exhausted. All I want is to be away from here, back in District 12. Back in the bakery.

I fall asleep to the rat-tat-tat of the trains spinning past the world.

* * *

Effie's shrill voice wakes me. She knocks on the door, but doesn't wait for my answer before she barges in. "Rise and shine, up, up, up! It's going to be a wonderfully big day!" she shrills. I can barely imagine what exactly will be 'wonderful' about this day, but that's what Capitol people are like for you. So much excitement for the Games. It's all a big spectacle for them. They don't know that we are real people, with real lives and it isn't a game.

I pull on a cornflower blue button-up shirt, tucking it into a pair of dark brown trousers. I look smart, and the shirts colour brings out the blonde in my hair. It'll make an impression, I hope. We can't be that far from the Capitol now. Besides, even if I don't look good, the stylists at the Capitol will prim and prep me up for the opening ceremonies tonight.

As I enter the dining car, I notice Haymitch is lazily sliding jam on a piece of bread. His face is puffy and red, clearly hungover. I pick up a roll, not really having much of an appetite. A few moments later, Katniss and Effie both enter the cart at the same time. Effie is holding a cup of coffee in her hands, giving Haymitch a side glare. Katniss ignores them, including me, and slides into a chair. Someone brings a platter of food over to each of us and sets out a buffet of different fruits and drinks in the middle of the table. I'm already sipping on a cup of brown liquid that Haymitch told me was called hot chocolate, so I don't bother getting another drink. Instead, I choose a couple fruits to eat instead of the roll I've been holding in my hand for too long.

I notice Katniss is staring at my drink. "They call it hot chocolate," I say. "It's good." I pick up the pot full of the stuff and pour Katniss a little bit into her mug. She sips the creamy liquid and I see her visibly shudder, smiling faintly into her cup. I can't help but grin back at her, even though she's not looking at me; she can't take her eyes away from the hot chocolate. She doesn't touch anything else in front of her until she's drained the entire cup. After that, she begins stuff ourselves with every kind of foods on the table.

For some reason, I still don't have much of an appetite, so I split the roll up into chunks with my fingers and dunk it in the hot chocolate. It doesn't taste too bad, but it's not the best combination I've ever had. I can barely taste the food on my tongue, anyway, so what does it matter?

Haymitch is getting steadily drunk again, pouring clear liquid into his juice every time he tops up his glass. By the time we reach the Capitol, he'll be as incoherent as he was during the reaping. I want to rip it away from him. I need him to be coherent, to be present, to help me keep Katniss alive.

"So, you're supposed to give us advice," Katniss says suddenly. Her brows are furrowed, annoyance written all over her face.

"Here's come advice. Stay alive," Haymitch replies, before bursting out laughing. Katniss' eyes reach me for a second before she flits them away again. Anger boils inside me. How am I supposed to keep Katniss alive if he acts like this is all just a joke?

"That's very funny," I say. On an impulse, I lash the glass out of his hand, shattering it on the floor and staining the cream carpet with the red juice. "Only not to us." I finish.

Without warning, Haymitch jumps up and punches me in the jaw, pushing me off the chair. I'm momentarily in shock, but the anger and adrenaline are still pumping through me. I can't see what's happening, because my eyes are seeing stars, but I hear a loud bang that brings me back to reality.

"Well, what's this?" I hear Haymitch ask. "Did I actually get a pair of fighters this year?"

I pull myself up off the floor. I see a knife stuck into the table, which must've been the bang. Katniss is standing in a defensive position, looking just as angry as I did a few seconds ago. I begin to scoop a handful of ice to place on my chin.

"No," Haymitch says, stopping me. "Let the bruise show. The audience will think you've mixed it up with another tribute before you've even made it to the arena."

"That's against the rules," I protest.

"Only if they catch you. That bruise will say you fought, you weren't caught, even better." he turns to Katniss after taking the ice away from my aching chin. "Can you hit anything with that knife besides a table?" he asks her.

I know that the bow and arrow is Katniss' weapon. She brings in squirrels and game that she's shot with her arrows to trade with my father for bread. But she doesn't say anything, and instead, she yanks the knife out of the table, getting a stable grip on the blade. She throws it impressively across the room, landing it between two panels. From the silence that blankets the room, I can tell that Haymitch is secretly impressed.

"Stand over here. Both of you," Haymitch commands, nodding to the middle of the room. We both obey, walking into the clearing. He circles us like a bird of prey, examining our faces, prodding our muscles. "Well, you're not entirely hopeless. Seem fit. And once the stylists get hold of you, you'll be attractive enough." We both stay silent, unable to respond. Haymitch seems unrecognisable from the drunk I bathed yesterday. "All right, I'll make a deal with you. You don't interfere with my drinking-" he pauses, giving me a minute look before continuing, "and I'll stay sober enough to help you. But you have to do exactly what I say."

It's not much, but I'm sure I can work with it. "Fine," I agree.

"So help us," Katniss says. "When we get to the arena, what's the bet strategy at the Cornucopia for someone-"

"One thing a time. In a few minutes, we'll be pulling into the station. You'll be put in the hands of our stylists. You're not gong to like what they do to you. But no matter what it is, don't resist." Haymitch commands.

"But-" Katniss protests.

"No buts. Don't resist," Haymitch says. He takes a bottle of spirit from the drinks cart and leaves the carriage. The door shuts behind him, leaving Katniss as I standing in silence. All of a sudden, the carriage goes dark as we enter a tunnel. You can hear the wind whistle as the train speeds through it. We must be getting closer to the Capitol now, but the tunnel seems never-ending.

Finally, the train begins to slow. Both Katniss and I jump to the light, sharing a window, seeing what we've only ever seen on crappy television screens. Everything is more beautiful, more rich and holds more grandeur than I ever could have imagined. Rose gold shining buildings, rainbow hues resting on the river and pastel coloured streets.

People are pointing at us eagerly as the train rolls into the main city. Katniss steps away from the window, but my eyes are too drawn to the crazy colours to be away from it for a second. I wave and I smile, taken up and away by everything. It feels like I'm running on autopilot, not really knowing what I'm doing.

The train pulls into the station and away from the crowds, and I step away from the window, being grabbed back by reality. I notice Katniss staring at me quizzically. I shrug, unsure what to say. "Who knows? One of them might be rich." I say.

I turn away from her. I'm not sure why I said that... I'm not sure why I waved so much, either.

Maybe, just maybe, if I can get people to like me, then I can get people to like Katniss.


	5. Chapter 5

**PART ONE | THE TRIBUTES**

 **CHAPTER FIVE**

* * *

I grunt. Loudly.

Three little birds, otherwise known as my prep team, flutter around me. They pull out hairs, trim my nails, file down my hard skin. They look like little birds, too. All exotic colours and exaggerated features.

"Oops, sorry! Just a little more work to go!" one of the birds says to me in their affected accents. They sound so trill, and the comparison to birds likens in my mind. They're high-pitched and hiss their letters sometimes.

I nod. Another one of the birds appears round the others shoulder. "We're going to wash down once more before we take you to Portia, yes?" they say, asking as though I may protest. As if I'm allowed to protest.

The bathing was probably the worst. They got me naked before rubbing me down with a gritty foam that practically takes of three layers of my skin and leaves it feeling raw. After that, they styled my hair, shaved my face, waxed my back and my chest. Then they just prepped and primed me like the decorations on a cake; cutting my nails, dying my eyelashes, rubbing hard skin off me.

"Mmm, you almost look a little bit handsome now!" one of the bird squeak.

I grit my teeth. "Thank you."

"Now, now, he will look even more handsome once Portia gets her fingernails into him." another bird replies.

They hose me down with a warm shower spray, dry me off and send me into a small room where they tell me to wait for Portia. I feel incredibly awkward, standing in this room devoid of anything but a table, when I'm naked, but I know I can't do anything so I sit there, thinking of how much I hate my prep team. How stupid they are. Looks are all that matter to them.

A few minutes later, Portia enters. She has slightly dark skin and is incredibly extravagant. Her mess of wild blonde hair sticks out triangularly from her head, her lips coated in a matte black lipstick. Her black and pink eyelashes extend for practically a metre. It looks ridiculous, but her clothes are much more subdued compared to the prep teams'. She dresses in black attire that sticks out at her shoulders and hips. Black vines climb up her legs.

"Peeta," she purrs. "I'm your stylist, Portia."

"Hello." I return.

"Hmm." she begins to walk around me, occasionally peering in to look at me closer.

"Is this your first year?" I ask. I'm not sure I've seen her before when watching the Games.

"Second, actually." she murmurs, barely even hearing me, too busy looking at me like a piece of meat. All I want to do is cover myself up, but I remember the bargain Haymitch made with Katniss and I, so I go along with her stares and judgement. After a few minutes that feel like hours, she turns to look at me properly, in the face and not just at my body. "Hello. Sorry. I had to inspect you... Why don't you grab your robe and we'll have some lunch?"

Her voice sounds like the way silk feels on my skin. She walks through a door, and I follow her through it. The walls of the room are painted in a white colour, making them look completely blank. My eyes are drawn to the wall-sized window, however, which looks out onto the whole cities skyline. The colours draw me in. I wish more than anything to be alone in this room, a paintbrush in my hand and a canvas before me, looking out onto the city and recreating it with my hands.

Portia invites me to sit on the couch opposite her across a table. She presses a button carefully and the top of the table splits, revealing an entire platter and array of foods. It's all so beautiful and colourful, and I wish again that I could paint it. Everything here is so beautiful... But at the same time, it's so tainted with the Capitol's inhumane touch.

I reach toward the orange sauce covered chicken dish, putting some on my plate with a mixture of vegetables and crispy onion potatoes. Everything is so decadent, but I try not to gorge myself. It's really difficult to restraint myself to eat everything on the table; a mixture of hating waste and years of not eating enough being the reason for this. But every other Capitol meal I've had has always left me feeling sick and bloated, and it's a feeling I don't like.

What must this world be like? Where their food appears at the touch of a button? And mountains of it, too. Too much for just two people. Too much for a family of people, even. The food on this table could feed a family in District 12 for a week if they rationed it well. It makes me angry. It's so despicable that they can do this, can gorge themselves like this, when people in 12 are starving to death.

Portia clears her throat after we eat in silence for a few minutes. "Well, Peeta," she begins. "I'm impressed. You're quite handsome, you know. Women all over the Capitol will be falling for you. Boy, oh, boy... A handsome one from District 12. It'll certainly catch attention."

"Thank you," I say, my words muffled slightly as I shove another potato into my mouth. It tastes so greasy and warm, and I'm finding it hard restrain myself.

"Mmm," she purrs. "I want to catch even _more_ attention. A beautiful boy like you deserves a beautiful outfit... As you most likely know, it's customary to reflect your districts... traditions, shall we say." I look up her. Her eyes are trained on me, already creating and dressing me in her mind. I dread to think what she has in mind. Outfits in the previous years were so tasteless and uninspired, always having our tributes dressed up as coal miners. I had started to believe that the stylists had no imagination.

"So... coal miners outfit, then?" I preposition, a little grin inflicting my face.

She smiles back. "Oh, gosh, no, Peeta. You see, your fellow tribute Katniss, is working with the new District 12 stylist and he has some very interesting ideas-" my ears peak in interest as she continues "-and we both agree that the coal miners thing is very overdone. Nobody will remember you in that. We both see it as our job to make this years District 12 tributes unforgettable."

"And what exactly does that entail?" I ask.

"We're focusing on the coal, rather than the coal mining itself." she replies, as if that explains everything.

"So... will I be naked and covered in coal, or?" I joke, hoping that she doesn't take it seriously. I don't have much of a problem with my body, really, and I'm not prude either. But being naked in front of the entire nation of Panem? That's not my idea of fun.

Portia laughs at my joke, relieving me. "No. Think about it. Carefully. What do you do with coal?"

I pause, searching my brains. "Uh... burn it?"

"Yessss," she hisses. She leans in closer to me, her pink eyes twinkling with black flecks. I am pulled into them, swirling. "You're not afraid of fire, are you, Peeta?"

* * *

A few hours later, I am dressed in all black. No wonder Portia likes this costume, I think to myself. The shiny material covers every inch of my body, from my feet to my neck. It's sleek and tight, flaring in a couple places like my kneecaps and my wrists. I wear black boots on my feet. On my back is a cape that will later be set on fire, which is really the defining part of the outfit.

Katniss is dressed in the exact same outfit as me. We're standing together, waiting and a slightly nervous about being set alight. Portia and Cinna, Katniss' stylist, stand with us, accepting congratulations on the excellent outfits. Everybody around is absolutely giddy. I look toward Katniss, trying to gauge how she's feeling, but she's pulling another poker-face as usual.

We're taken to the bottom of the Remake Centre where the chariots and horses wait for us. Each chariot is pulled by four horses, and ours are pitch black in colour, reminiscing the coal that represents our district. The animals are so well-trained that they don't even need anyone to control their reins. I hate to admit it, even to myself, but I'm slightly terrified. First, they say they're going to set me on fire. Next, I'm being drawn in a rickety carriage by four horses without reins.

Cinna and Portia direct us to the chariot, helping us get in and positioning us. They move off to one side, consulting with each other.

Katniss turns to me. "What do you think?" she whispers. "About the fire?"

"I'll rip off your cape if you'll rip off mine," I say, with my teeth gritted. My body is reacting badly to the anxiety flowing through my veins.

"Deal," she agrees. It settles me slightly knowing that Katniss and I will be helping each other in this. "I know we promised Haymitch we'd do exactly what they said, but I don't think he considered this angle." she continues.

I look around. "Where is Haymitch, anyway? Isn't he supposed to protect us from this sort of thing?" I say. I feel nervous for a whole new plethora of reasons... I'm actually _talking_ to Katniss. How many conversations have I had with her? Is this the first real one we've had? I can't help but feel incredibly concious of the fact that we're standing so close to each other.

"With all that alcohol in him, it's probably no advisable to have him around an open flame," Katniss jokes.

I can't help but burst out laughing, which makes me feel a little bit crazy, but then she joins in with my laughter. I had no idea that she could be so funny sometimes.

The opening music begins, interrupting our laughter. It blasts, incredibly loudly. Massive doors open slowly, revealing the crowd-lined streets.I prepare myself for the pull of the chariot that will soon begin.

District 1 leaves through the doors. They're pulled by beautiful snowy white horses. Their bodies are spray painted silver, in skin-tight tunics that glitter with diamonds. They're known for their use of luxury items, and the Capitol wrap it all up, roaring at them. District 1 are always a fan favourite with the Capitol.

District 2 follows after them, and in no time at all, it's our time to go. Cinna and Portia appear by the side of our carriage just as the tributes from District 11 are beginning to roll out. "Here we go," Cinna says and lights our capes on fire. A breath vacuums up inside my chest, waiting for the burning sensation to begin, but all I feel is a tingling sensation that feels almost like a tickle as it licks up my back. He sighs in relief. "It works." Cinna puts a hand under Katniss' chin. "Remember, heads held high. Smiles. They're going to love you."

He jumps off the chariot, and quickly remembers something, shouting at us and gesturing as the chariot begins to move. "What's he saying?" Katniss asks me, turning to me. Her eyes are widening in admiration as she looks at my outfit. I can see my reflection in her pupils, all fire and ember and dazzling.

I squint to Cinna. "I think he said for us to hold hands." I say. On an impulse, I grab her hand and look to Cinna who gives us confirmation in a thumbs up. His confirmation is the last thing I see before the chariot takes us past the doors.

Despite the roar of the crowd, the crazy reaction that we're getting, I am completely and utterly aware that I am holding Katniss' hand. It grips back to mine, our fingers intertwined. My chest is so warm, a fluttering feeling inside my stomach. I feel so in love, so, so in love with her.

I catch sight of us both in the television screens and we look so beautiful. Breathtaking. Especially Katniss. In the twilight of the sky, we look illuminated and full of shadows due to our flames. We leave a trail of fire behind us. I lift my chin higher, full of confidence. Katniss clutches onto me tighter, and I can't help but look to her. My eyes are drawn to her beauty; I've never seen her look so full of grace.

Katniss is gaining confidence, too. She begins to blow kisses to the stage, and it drives them crazy. They're screaming our names, our actual names, which means they've bothered to look for us in the programme. They may actually remember us. I feel so incredibly glad for Cinna and Portia... they've given us the advantage that I needed to keep Katniss alive , just like I planned. I feel a flicker of hope rise inside of me. Sponsors will be all over us. All over her.

Someone throws Katniss a rose as red as blood. She catches it perfectly, sniffing it deeply. We enter the City Circle, and Katniss loosens her grip on my hand. I don't want her to let go, more than anything in the world, I don't want her to let go. "No, don't let go of me," I say, involuntarily. Quickly, I try to cover myself up, feeling my cheeks go red. "Please, I might fall out of this thing." I say, looking at the chariot.

"OK," she replies. She keeps holding on, but it feels a little different, as if she's uncomfortable. I feel my chest falling a bit with thought that she's uncomfortable holding my hand, but what do I expect?

The twelve chariots fill the loop of the City Circle, our horses pulling up right next to President Snow's mansion. The music sends with a huge lyrical flourish as the president steps outside of his mansion onto his balcony. He begins his speech which lasts a few minutes before the horses pull us away from the crowds and toward the Training Centre.

Just as the doors shut behind us, the prep teams babble over to the both of us. Both my prep team and Katniss', included, which means six little birds pecking at us, squeaking about how amazing we were together. I glance around the centre and notice that all of the other tributes are staring at us. We've completely outshone them, even Districts 1 and 2.

My attention is pulled away from other tributes glares as Cinna and Portia extinguish our flames. It's only then that Katniss realises she's still holding my hand. I smile weakly as she lets go, but both of our hands are slightly tired from the tight grip we've had on each other, and we have to massage our hands to get the blood flowing again. It makes us both smile.

"Thanks for keeping hold of me," I say. "I was getting a little shaky there."

"It didn't show." she tells me. "I'm sure no one noticed."

I'm taken away by her smile. "I'm sure they didn't notice anything but you. You should wear flames more often. They suit you." I say, smiling at her, falling so much more in love than I ever realised I could. I've been staring at her from afar for years and years, but she's so much more of an amazing person up close and real. I wish I had gained courage to talk to her years ago.

She looks startled at my comment, taken aback but a small, confused smile flits across her face. She stands on her tip toes and kisses my cheek, right on my bruise.

My heart explodes.


	6. Chapter 6

**PART ONE | THE TRIBUTES**

 **CHAPTER SIX**

* * *

Every year, they redesign the Training Centre for the new tributes and their teams. Not only does it have a space for tributes to train, but it's also where we will be living until the Games actually begin. Each district has an entire floor to themselves which we get to in an elevator, a strange machine that speeds us through the building and up toward the twelfth floor.

I've never been in an elevator before, but Katniss tells us that's been in an old rickety one back in the Justice Building. She's just as fascinated as I am by the crystal walls and marble floors of the elevator and just how fast it shoots us up. I can see just how excited and exhilarated she is by the ride. My heart explodes again, taking me back in time to her kiss. It was just on the cheek, and I've played kiss chase as a boy many times in the playground, but I've never felt anything like that before. It was like explosions in my chest.

Effie and Haymitch take us onto our floor. Effie is incredibly high in spirits, incredibly excited by the fact that this is the first pair of tributes she's had that have actually made some sort of an impression on the crowds of the Capitol. She babbles on about how well we conducted ourselves, how everybody who's anybody is talking about us and thinking of sponsoring us.

"I've been very mysterious though," she says. "Because, of course, Haymitch hasn't bothered to tell me your strategies. But I've done my best with what I had to work with. How Katniss sacrificed herself for her sister. How you've both successfully struggled to overcome the barbarism of your district." she pauses, and I raise my eyebrows, unconvinced. "Everybody has their reservations, naturally. You being from the coal district. But I said,, and this was very clever of me, I said, 'Well, if you put enough pressure on coal it turns to pearls!'" Effie giggles and beams at us so brightly that both Katniss and I have no choice but to respond just as enthusiastically to her clever anecdote, even though it's technically incorrect because coal doesn't turn into pearls. "Unfortunately, I can't seal the sponsor deals for you. Only Haymitch can do that. But don't worry, I'll get him to the table at gunpoint if necessary."

I appreciate her gesture. She means well, and she's incredibly determined, even if her morals aren't always exactly in place.

My bedroom is incredibly rich, full of pull furniture and crazy clever gadgets that do impossible things. The shower alone must have over a hundred different buttons that change the water pressure and heat, give different soaps or shampoos... I'm not sure I will ever have time to press all of these different buttons in just the shower, let alone the whole room. I press a few random buttons and end up smelling beautifully like roses. It reminds me of a small patch of flowers back home, and I decide I don't want to bother with any of the other buttons... the roses are lovely enough.

My wardrobe has a plethora of strange buttons, too. I press a few and an outfit is chosen for me. The first choice is a little off (bright red co-ord trousers and a yellow silk shirt with moving butterflies on were much too Capitol for me...), but my second one suits me well enough. A plain plaid shirt and a blazer with some plain black trousers. I feel a little handsome too, and I can't help but wonder if Katniss will think the same.

Katniss. My heart skips a beat. That damn kiss on the cheek is killing me.

Effie calls for dinner, and I'm grateful because by now I'm starving hungry. I walk into the main dining room and see a beautiful balcony. After the wonderful views in the window earlier today when I ate with Portia, I am drawn to see the same skyline but in the night time. Cinna and Portia join me soon after. "Isn't it beautiful?" I say, breathless.

"Yeah. Just like Katniss, hm?" Cinna prompts, lifting an eyebrow.

I smile. I guess I'm too obvious.

There is little chance for me to reply to Cinna before everybody else joins us in the dining room and I have to adjourn to the table. I sit down next to Katniss, who's dressed beautifully. A silent young man dressed in a white tunic offers us all stemmed glasses of wine. I've never tried wine before, but the idea that I may never get a chance to again seems too much to surpass this opportunity. I try a little sip, but it's much too dry and sour for my tastes.

Haymitch shows up just as the actual dinner is being served. He shocks me as he is so much groomed than I've ever seen him. Has he had his own stylist? I wonder. He is clean and groomed, his beard trimmed. Even more surprising, Haymitch and Effie are being much more civil than usual. The offer of wine doesn't get turned down by him at all, which reminds me that this actually is Haymitch I am seeing.

The first course is mushroom soup with greens and tomatoes. After that follows roast beef, noodles in green sauce, cheese and blue grapes. All of the servers bring the platters to us wordlessly. The talk on the table is mostly about the Opening Ceremonies and what we'll be wearing for the interviews in a few days.

A server comes over with a tall, gorgeous looking cake. I'm taking aback by the sight of a cake, as stupid as it seems. I would see them and bake them and decorate them every day. Every damn day. But it's been almost two days since I've even _seen_ a cake. This one that's placed on the table is magnificent. It's made even more magnificent when the server leans over and lights it on fire, flicking around the edges for a tens of seconds.

"What makes it burn? Is it alcohol?" Katniss asks, looking up at our server. "That's the last thing I wa- Oh! I know you!"

The comment brings the tables attention, and it catches me. My attention focuses on the server, a girl with dark red hair and white skin, then I switch my glance to Katniss who is looking incredibly uneasy. I don't know what's going on, but the server girl scatters away, shaking her head in denial. Everybody is watching Katniss like hawks.

"Don't be ridiculous, Katniss. How could you possibly know an Avox?" Effie snaps. "The very thought."

"What's an Avox?" Katniss asks.

"Someone who committed a crime. They cut her tongue so she can't speak," Haymitch says. "She's probably a traitor of some sort. Not likely you'd know her."

"And even if you did, you're not to speak to one of them unless it's to give an order," Effie continues. "Of course, you don't really know her."

I feel incredibly uneasy and something is completely off about all of this. "No, I guess not, I just-" Katniss stammers, looking slightly sick.

I suddenly have an idea, a way to cover it for her. I'm not sure what's going on, or why Katniss knows one of the servers, but I know that it's not a good impression. I snap my fingers, grabbing everybody's attention. "Delly Cartwright. That's who it is. I kept thinking she looked familiar as well. Then I realised she's a dead ringer for Delly." I lie. Delly is nothing like that woman. She's blonde and pasty, as similar to the server as water is to wine.

"Of course, that's who I was thinking of. It must be the hair," she says, leaping onto my suggestion gratefully.

"Something about the eyes, too," I say.

I'm not sure if they've all fallen for it, but Cinna tries to diffuse the tension. "Oh, well. If that's all it is. And yes, the cake has spirits, but all the alcohol has burned off. I ordered it specially in honour of your fiery debut." He cuts pieces of cake for everybody, and we eat it with vigour, wishing the dinner to over already now.

We all move into the sitting room to watch the replay of the Opening Ceremonies. Everybody lets out a big "Ahhhh!" when Katniss and I come on screen. My eyes are glued to the way Katniss looks in her dress. The girl on fire, I think to myself.

"Whose idea was the hand holding?" Haymitch asks.

"Cinna's," Portia replies.

"Just the perfect touch of rebellion. Very nice." comments Haymitch.

I understand what he means, partially. I hate that it's all the hand holding was for, but I like the message it sends. Standing us together, a team, a District that was united and proud and a pair of tributes who were just as united and proud. It has helped us stand out even more, too.

"Tomorrow morning is the first training session. Meet me for breakfast and I'll tell you exactly how I want you to play it," Haymitch tells Katniss and I. "Now go get some sleep while the grown-ups talk."

Irritation bubbles inside me at his condescension, but it doesn't last long, especially when I find myself alone with Katniss, walking in the corridors back to our chambers. We reach her door first, and I lean against the frame, almost blocking her entrance. Part of me simply doesn't want our interaction to end, but another part is incredibly curious about the whole Delly-Avox incident.

"So, Delly Cartwright." I say. "Imagine finding her lookalike here." I lift my eyebrow, prompting her for an explanation. A few seconds pass and I immediately pick up on her hesitation. Her face is not as blank as it usually is, and I can see the clear fight with herself that she's having in her mind whether she wants to tell me or not to tell me. I'm not sure if it's me or the fact that we're here and someone may be listening, so I suggest something else to help her feel more comfortable. "Have you been on the roof yet? Cinna showed me. You can practically see the whole city. The wind's a bit loud, though."

"Can we just go up?" she asks.

"Sure, come on," I say, leading her to a flight of stairs that will take us to the roof, following the footsteps I took earlier. Cinna told me about the roof after I was chatting to him earlier about how beautiful the Capitol looked, but he never actually took me up here, he just showed me some directions. I hope it's as beautiful as my minds eye pictures it to be.

We walk to a railing at the edge of the roof. My chest loses breath. It's even more beautiful, if that's possible. So much hatred rises within me... Why does this city have to be so awful, so full of awful people? How can something so beautiful, be so rotten inside?

"I asked Cinna why they let us up here. Weren't they worried that some of the tributes might decide to jump right over the side?" I say.

"What'd he say?" Katniss asks.

"You can't," I say. I hold my hand into the empty space, but there's a sharp zap that pushes it back. I'm surprised by the force, even though Cinna had pre-warned me. "Some kind of electric field throws you back on the roof."

"Always worried about our safety," Katniss says.

"Maybe," I admit. "Come see the garden." I lead her over to the dome that reminds me of some high-tech garden shed. It's full of plants and flowers and trees. There's a fake wind blowing through the dome, whistling the wind chimes and rustling the leaves. It's completely bewitching, but I know that I have important things to talk to Katniss about and can't be whisked away by yet another beautiful place.

Katniss walks over to a pink blossom. She fiddles with it in her hands, looking down so her hair hides her face. "We were hunting in the woods one day. Hidden, waiting for game," she whispers.

I walk closer. I feel so much electricity between us. "You and your father?" I ask, completely aware of how much her fathers death hurt her. It almost killed her, and her family. Pain shoots through me at the thought.

"No, my friend Gale." she says, and a small pang of jealously hits me. "Suddenly, all the birds stopped singing at once. Except one. As if it were giving a warning call. And then we saw her. I'm sure it was the same girl. A boy was with her. Their clothes were tattered. They had dark circles under their eyes from no sleep. They were running as if their lives depended on it." she says. She stays silent for a second, but I'm so pulled in by her tale that I can't bare to speak to encourage her to continue. Eventually, she manages to find her voice again. "The hovercraft appeared out of nowhere. I mean one moment, the sky was empty and the next it was there. It didn't make a sound, but they saw it. A net dropped down on the girl and carried her up, fast, so fat, like the elevator. They shot some sort of spear through the boy. it was attached to a cable and they hauled him up as well. But I'm certain he was dead. We heard the girl scream once The boys name, I think. Then it was gone, the hovercraft. Vanished into thin air. And the birds began to sing again, as if nothing had happened."

I look at her, crestfallen. I want to hold her, protect her. "Did they see you?" I ask.

"I don't know. We were under a shelf of rock." she says, looking down even further.

"You're shivering," I say softly, my heart expanding. I take off my jacket and wrap it round her shoulders. She is taken aback, but accepts my gesture. "They were from here?" I ask. She nods. "Where do you suppose they were going?" I probe once more. I'm too curious for my own good.

"I don't know that," she says. "And I don't know why they would leave here."

"I'd leave here," I blurt. Despite the beauty of the place, I can't stand the people. I could never, ever be here. I'd take District 12, the bakery, under my mothers thumb over all of this, all of these disgusting people. "I'd go home now if they let me. But you have to admit, the food's prime." I joke. "It's getting chilly. We'd better go in." I say.

We walk inside, where it's warm and bright. I try to sound cool and casual when I bring up the next thing, which I know I probably shouldn't, but the jealous pang won't leave me until I mention it. "Your friend Gale. He's the one who took your sister away at the reaping?"

"Yes. Do you know him?" she asks. I'm worried she's suspicious of me.

"Not really. I hear the girls talk about him a lot. I thought he was your cousin or something. You favour each other," I say, trying to stay neutral.

"No, we're not related."

I nod. "Did he come to say goodbye to you?" I ask. I can't help but feel so much jealously, even though I know it's such an ugly emotion.

"Yes," she says slowly, holding out the vowel. "So did your father. He brought me cookies."

My eyebrows raise in surprise. "Really?" I say. "Well, he likes you and your sister I think he wishes he had a daughter instead of a houseful of boys." We stay silent for a few seconds before I talk again. "He knew your mother when they were kids."

She seems surprised. "Oh, yes. She grew up in town," she says. We've reached her door now, and everything feels slightly stale as she gives my jacket back. "See you in the morning then." she says.

"See you," I say, feeling shy all of a sudden. I walk down the hall and away from her. I hold the jacket she wore in my arms, and give it a small, tentative sniff. It smells earthy, leathery and slightly like firewood.

I get back to my room and change so I'm ready to go to sleep. My mind wants to go crazy with over-thinking about everything that has happened between us in the last twenty four hours, but my eyelids are heavy with tiredness, and they drift me off to sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**PART ONE | THE TRIBUTES**

 **CHAPTER SEVEN**

* * *

Dawn begins to break through the flits of the curtains, but I don't want to move from the silk sheets. My sleep was full of nightmares last night, haunted by the images that Katniss told me about the Avox and where she came from. I feel incredibly groggy as I manage to pull my sleep-addled body from the bed and into the shower, picking the same rose soap button as I did yesterday. I rub the pink foam over my body, trying to wash the nightmares from my skin.

When I get out the shower, I notice an outfit has been left hanging for me at the front of the wardrobe. Tight black fitting trousers, a long sleeved burgundy tunic and comfortable leather shoes. I slip into it, realising that it must be the training gear. A tremor of nervousness runs down my spine - this will be the first time that all of the tributes will have a chance to interact, and I am not looking forward to it.

I wander down to breakfast, realising that Haymitch never gave either of us an exact time to meet for breakfast. When I get to the dining room, the table is already full of a buffet of breakfast foods and Katniss has already eaten. She's wearing an identical outfit to mine, which confirms my training gear idea. I sit down and begin to fill my plate, eating eggs and meats and fruits. I spread my bread with purple melon jam, an exotic flavour that tingles on my tongue. Haymitch joins soon after I do, filling his plate with food as well.

There are three days in which we get to train for the Games down in the centre with all of the other tributes. On the last day, we have a private session where we show off our skills to the Gamemakers; then they score us on a scale of 1 to 12. After we've all fairly stuffed ourselves, Haymitch takes a sigh and leans his elbows on the table. "So, let's get down to business. Training. First off, if you like, I'll coach you separately. Decide now."

"Why would you coach us separately?" Katniss asks.

"Say if you had a secret skill you might not want the other to know about," Haymitch explains.

I know that this is my chance to tell Haymitch that I want Katniss to be the one who lives, the one who he focuses on saving in these Games, but not while Katniss is here. I notice her glance at me sideways. "I don't have any secret skills," I say. "And I already know what yours is, right? I mean, I've eaten enough of your squirrels." I continue, looking at her. She holds my look.

"You can coach us together," she tells Haymitch. I nod and break our stare.

"All right, so give me some idea of what you can do," Haymitch says.

"I can't do anything, unless you count baking bred." I say.

"Sorry, I don't." Haymitch says bluntly. "Katniss. I already know you're handy with a knife."

"Not really," she confesses. "But I can hunt with a bow and arrow."

"And your good?" he asks.

Katniss is quiet for a minute before saying, "I'm all right."

"She's excellent," I say without thinking about it, but I realise that I'm right. "My father buys her squirrels. He always comments on how the arrows never pierce the body. She hits every one in the eye. It's the same with the rabbits she sells the butcher. She can even bring down deer."

She whips her head toward me, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What are you doing?"

"What are you doing?" I ask, matching her tone. "If he's going to help you, he has to know what you're capable of. Don't underrate yourself."

For some reason, Katniss looks incredibly irritated. "What about you?" she snarls. "I've seen you in the market. You can lift fifty-kilo bags of flour," she snaps, "Tell him that. That's not nothing."

I feel slightly annoyed, too. Why can't she just accept that she's better than me? That she could win this? That even my own _mother_ said that we might finally have a winner, meaning her, not me. "Yes, and I'm sure the arena will be full of bags of flour for me to chuck at people. It's not like being able to use a weapon. You know it isn't," I shoot back.

She turns away from me. "He can wrestle," she says to Haymitch. "He came in second in our school competition last year, only after his brother."

My heart seizes slightly. How does she know that about me? Maybe she just heard about it in the corridors, but it seems odd that it's somehow stuck with her until now. I can't help but hope with all of my being that she's been noticing me as much as I have been noticing her. I realise that I have been quiet for a few seconds, and remember my annoyance, wishing she could just accept that she's better than me, that she's going to win this. "What use is that? How many times have you seen someone wrestle someone to death?" I say back to her, disgusted in myself.

"There's always hand-to-hand combat. All you need is to come up with a knife, and you'll at least stand a chance. If I get jumped, I'm dead!" she says, her voice rising in anger.

The idea of Katniss dying is horrendous to me, but I know she's wrong about it all, and this rattles me further. "But you won't be! You'll be living up in some tree eating raw squirrels and picking off people with arrows." I say. Before I can stop myself, the words about my mother come tumbling out of me, even though I don't want them to. "You know what my mother said to me when she came to say goodbye, as if to cheer me? She says maybe District 12 will finally have a winner. Then I realised, she didn't mean me, she meant you!" I burst out.

Katniss is subdued by this. "Oh, she meant you," she says, dismissing me.

"She said 'she's a survivor, that one.' _She_ is," I say.

I notice I've really caught her, and feel guilty, but the pain of my mothers words is clear on my face. I've never been good at hiding my emotions. Katniss sounds small when she speaks up again, "But only because someone helped me." she says.

My eyes flicker down to the bread roll in her hands, bringing me back to the chilly, rainy night with the warm ovens behind me, burnt bread in my hands and a red slap on my cheek, watching the girl I loved die of starvation before my eyes. I remember just how much I love her, just how much she can't die. For herself, for her family, even for Gale... she can't die. I shrug, trying to be casual. "People will help you in the arena. They'll be tripping over each other to sponsor you." I say, thinking to myself that I will make sure of it.

"No more than you," she says.

I roll my eyes back toward Haymitch. Despite my annoyance, my pain and sadness, I'm so sure of my love for her. "She has no idea. The effect she can have." I say, running my fingernail along the wood grain of the table, trying to avoid her look.

Everybody is quiet for a few minutes, and it feels a little awkward. I'm sure that Katniss is mad at me, but I don't know how to fix things without accidentally blurting out that I'm in love with her or something stupid like that. After a little while, Haymitch starts up again. "Well, then. Well, well, well." he says. I catch his eye for half a second, and he gives me a look that tells me he knows. He knows I'm in love with her. My eyes dart back toward the table, full of embarrassment. "Katniss, there's no guarantee there'll be bows and arrows in the arena, but during your private session with the Gamemakers, show them what you can do. Until then, stay clear of archery. Are you any good at trapping?"

"I know a few basic snares," she mutters grumpily.

"That may be significant in terms of food," he says. "And, Peeta, she's right, never underestimate strength in the arena. Very often, physical power tilts the advantage to a player. In the Training Centre, they will have weights, but don't reveal how much you can lift in front of the other tributes. The plan's the same for both of you. You go to group training. Spend the time trying to learn something you don't know. Throw a spear. Swing a mace. Learn to tie a decent knot. Save showing what you're best at until your private sessions. Are we clear?" he asks.

Katniss and I nod like obedient dogs.

"One last thing." Haymitch says, an odd tone to his voice. "In public, I want you by each other's side every minute." We both begin to object. Obviously, for different reasons. Hers because she must hate me, me because I'm irrevocably in love with her and don't want the whole of Panem to realise this. Haymitch slams his hand on the table, stopping both of us from talking. "Every minute! It's not open for discussion! You agreed to do as I said! You will be together, you will appear amiable to each other. Now get out. Meet Effie at the elevator at ten for training." he yells, dismissing us both to our rooms.

We walk sullenly back to our bedrooms. Katniss reaches hers first, slamming the door behind her in a tantrum. I start to walk back to my room, feeling incredibly defeated. The day has barely started and already so much has gone wrong... I can't help but feel apprehensive for the training in an hour.

Just as I reach the door to my chambers, someone touches my shoulder. I turn around to see Haymitch. "You and me. Roof. Now." he says before turning around and going toward the ladder that leads to the roof. I follow him nervously.

He takes me into the same dome that Katniss and I went to last night. It's just as beautiful in the daytime as it in the night. He finds two garden chairs and beckons for me to sit on one. "So," he starts. "Anything you want to tell me?"

I swallow. Where do I start? "I... I don't, I don't-"

"Alright, I see this isn't going be easy, so I'll make it easy," he says. "Are you in love with her or something?"

The question is so out there that it strikes me even though I was expecting it. Even when Madge Undersee was trying to probe me for my feelings about Katniss, she didn't word it like that at all. I give Haymitch a small nod.

He breathes in deeply. "Perfect." he says.

"Perfect?" I ask, confused.

"Yes. Perfect. I thought the hand holding was a perfect touch of rebellion, but this..." he gives a small whoop and a laugh, taking me completely aback.

"What do you mean?"

"Peeta, you have no idea how glad I am that I made you promise me to do anything I told you to do," Haymitch says, smiling so widely that all of his grimy teeth show.

Blood flees from my face with apprehension. "What are you going to make me do?"

"Don't say it like that," he says. He takes a breath before continuing on, knowing that whatever he says will make me protest. "I knew you had a thing for her. I could tell it. You don't hide it very well."

"Well-" I begin to say.

"No, it's not a bad thing. That's why I told you both to stay together during Training," he states, even though I already knew this. "Look, I know she's not exactly... easy to deal with all the time. I can tell that from just a couple hours with the girl. And staying together, being amiable in the public eye, probably isn't going to be easy. But I can play this... I can play this angle."

"Haymitch, listen to me-"

"No!" he interrupts. "I've already said I know this won't be easy, but trust me, in the interview stage, when you reveal to the whole world that you love her-" (my heart begins to pound in my chest at the thought, I pray he isn't being serious) "-you will win the hearts of the nation, and the money of the sponsors."

I roll my eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh. "That's not what I want." I say. "I want Katniss to win this. I want her to live. And don't try to talk me out of this. I've already decided and to be honest, I did the moment we were both reaped."

This silences him. "Okay," he says softly. "Okay. So, every choice you make is to save her. And you want me to go along with that, do you?"

"Yes."

"It's a deal."

"Good," I say. "And I'm not professing my love in the interviews. I'm not telling anyone."

"Yes, you are. You both promised to do exactly what I said, and your infatuation with this girl doesn't change that," Haymitch argues. "You will tell everybody you love her in the interviews because you want her to live. It'll make her look desirable, attractive, loveable. We both know she could use that."

I nod slowly. "Okay." I say, agreeing. Everything is happening so fast that my head is spinning. We both silently get up from the garden chairs and make our way out the dome.

My sense of being unsure must be written all over me because he turns to me just before we leave. "Look, kid. I promise that in the end, this is going to work out just the way you want to."

* * *

Not too long after, I meet Effie at the elevator ready to go down to the Training Centre. Katniss joins us swiftly after and we enter the snazzy elevator again, riding for less than a minute before we reach an enormous gymnasium filled with different weaponry stations, obstacle courses and places to learn survival skills. Katniss and I are the last to arrive in the centre, causing everybody to look at us. There's a tense air surrounding the room.

A number '12' is pinned to both of our backs. We join the circle of tributes and a tall, athletic woman named Atala steps up and begins to explain the rules and regulations of the Training Centre. She explains that there are experts in each station, waiting to help train us. We're free to travel between stations wherever we want, but she recommends a good ratio of weaponry to survival skills. She strictly tells us that we are forbidden to engage in combat exercise with another tribute.

Katniss' eyes travel around the tributes, and I follow her gaze, looking at the mixture of tributes. So many of them are hollow and underfed, completely out of their depth here. I feel so much stronger, which is odd for a District 12 tribute, as we are often one of the poorest and most starving Districts out there. There are, obviously, some who are much more incredibly healthier than I am by far, like the tributes from 1, 2 and 4.

The tributes from 1, 2 and 4 (commonly nicknamed the Career tributes, or just the Careers) are always the strongest. Technically, it's illegal to train before the Games, but that doesn't stop them. They're much richer Districts and the Capitol favour them, overlooking any breaches of rules where training is regarded. Besides, it just makes the Games more interesting for them, so why would they bother chastising them?

Our Opening Ceremonies entrance disappears in front of these tributes. They were jealous of us before, but now they're about to show their physical dominance over us to scare us away. They project arrogance and murderous brutality. When Atala tells us we're allowed to go train, they head straight toward the most deadly looking weapons and handle them deftly.

Katniss tries to walk off, but I nudge her arm. The conversation with Haymitch, and our argument this morning, has left me completely drained. I'm already done with the day and wishing for it to be over that when I speak I feel like I come off as though I'm annoyed with her. "Where would you like to start?" I say with no expression or tone.

She looks around the centre before focusing on one station. "Suppose we tie some knots," she suggests.

"Right you are," I say. We cross to the knotting station and begin to get some advice from the expert. We work on it for an hour until we feel competent enough on it to move onto the camouflage station. I feel in my element here, swirling muds, clays and berry juices together on my skin; weaving disguises with vines and leaves.

The trainer at the station is incredibly enthusiastic about my camouflaging work, and I can tell that Katniss is slightly surprised, too. "I do the cakes," I admit.

"The cakes?" she asks. "What cakes?"

"At home. The iced ones, for the bakery," I explain.

She investigates my arm with her eyes, obviously critiquing it in her mind. "It's lovely. If only you could frost someone to death," she snaps.

I'm annoyed with her tone. "Don't be so superior." I chastise, but then I remember that we shouldn't argue here - Haymitch told us to be amiable together in public. Besides, I'm too exhausted for her annoyance and my own. I don't want to be annoyed with her. "You can never tell what you'll find in the area. Say it's actually a gigantic cake-" I joke, but Katniss cuts me off.

"Say we move on."

* * *

The next three days in the Training Centre pass with us both going quietly from one station to another. I do well in the hand-to-hand combat and Katniss sweeps the edible plants test. We both stay clear of the archery and weight lifting just like Haymitch told us to.

From the first day, the Gamemakers were watching us. Around twenty or so men and women dressed in purple robes. They sit in stands above us, watching us train. They mostly ignore us and focus on the banquet before them. Our food is served at set times during the day, arranged on carts. We then move to tables where most people stick just sitting near the people in their District.

Katniss and I sit together due to Haymitch's instructions; even though I would probably have tried to sit with her instructions or no instructions. The conversation is a bit difficult sometimes... Talking about District 12 and our families is much too hard, talking about the Games is too anxiety provoking. We stick to simple, careful subjects. On the first day, our subject is bread.

"And there you have it," I say, scooping the breads back in the basket after explaining how each District uses their grains to make different, individual breads.

"You certainly know a lot," Katniss replies.

"Only about bread," I say. "OK, now laugh as if I've said something funny." We both give a somewhat convincing laugh. I'm trying hard to keep up with Haymitch's instructions about making sure we look amiable, especially after our conversation on the roof. I feel as though I have to make it obvious to everybody that I'm in love with her. "All right, I'll keep smiling pleasantly and you talk." I say after our laughter subsides.

It's tiring me out, if I'm honest. All of the fake talking, laughing and smiling. It's nothing compared to how I truly feel inside.

"Did I ever tell you about the time I was chased by a bear?" Katniss says, changing our subject.

"No, but it sounds fascinating," I say. Katniss makes animated faces as she tells her story, but her eyes are dull and her heart isn't in the conversation.

On second day of training, Katniss and I are in spear training when I notice a small girl, from District 11 I thought, watching us. "I think we have a shadow." I whisper to her. Katniss looks over to the girl while I throw another spear. "I think her name's Rue," I continue softly.

She bit her lip. "What can do about it?" Katniss says harshly.

I swallowed, letting her annoyance bite at my heart and hurt me. "Nothing to do," I say. "Just making conversation."

That night, when we finally escape from dinner, we both walk back to our bedrooms together. "Someone ought to get Haymitch a drink," I mumble, joking about he and Effie's tireless fighting at dinner that night.

Katniss laughs involuntarily, but she catches herself. She stands up straight, making her face blank. "Don't. Don't let's pretend when there's no one around."

My heart breaks. I know that Haymitch told us, made us promise, to be friends in public. But I didn't think she hated me this much. She can't stand me at all, I think to myself. "All right, Katniss," I sigh, heartbreak filling every crevice in my body.

After that, we only ever talk in front of people.

Our third day of training signals the day that the Gamemakers score us in a private session. I'm too tired to care that much. I haven't done so much physical work in a long time, even working in the bakery every day shifting bags of flour wasn't as tiring as this. But truthfully I know that it's not just the training; it's Katniss, too. Even thinking of our conversations over the past few days hurts me.

When we are summoned to wait for our private sessions, I sit next to Katniss on the benches. District 12 is the last District to go in for their private sessions, so we are waiting for a long while. When my name is finally called, I don't even bother saying anything to her before I rise from the bench.

"Remember what Haymitch said," Katniss blurts out, the voice of her words echoing the silent corridor. "About being sure to throw the weights."

I'm slightly perturbed. "Thanks. I will," I say. "You... shoot straight."

She nods and I walk away into my session.

It goes fine, even though the Gamemakers are too busy stuffing themselves with a buffet and getting drunk on gold wine to notice me that much. I decide to throw some weights and beat one of the trainers in a hand-to-hand combat. I'm left with a couple of minutes so I show off some of the survival skills that I learnt over the course of the days.

I walk away not caring that much about what they thought about me. Not caring that much about anything but Katniss.


	8. Chapter 8

**PART ONE | THE TRIBUTES**

 **CHAPTER EIGHT**

* * *

I zoom up in the elevator, hitting the number 12 and watching the world zoom up and up and up. Katniss is doing her private session right; probably impressing them with her archery skills. They'll see how amazing she is and realise how rubbish I was.

I know that I probably shouldn't care. That my animosity toward her skills is redundant, because all I want is for her to win the Games instead of me; but for some reason I can't help but feel slightly jealous and annoyed. Her temper with me has been out of control whenever we're alone. Even when we're in public eye together, pretending to be the best of friends, I can feel her hostility towards me. And as much as I wish it didn't, it really irks me.

When I'm on the twelfth floor, I make my way into the sitting room to find Effie and Haymitch waiting for me on the plush couches. "How'd it go?" Haymitch asks.

I shrug. "S'alright," I say. They probe me with questions about what I did, what reaction it got, whether I thought I did well. I answered their questions with minimal effort and little explanations, feeling exhausted. After a few minutes, they realise they aren't going to get too much information from me right now and leave me be while they wait for Katniss. I almost feel my eyes drifting off into a nap when I hear the doors of the elevator click together, shutting loudly, pulling me from the rouse of sleep.

Whatever happened in her training mustn't have gone well because she storms off into her bedroom, slamming her door behind her. Haymitch and Effie get up almost immediately, rushing to her. I follow them a few steps behind, knowing that she won't want to see me, but wanting to know what's going on. They knock on the door repeatedly, but she just shouts at them to go away. Eventually, we all return back to the sitting room and wait for her to come out. My worry increases the longer we wait for her and there's little talk as we wait for her to calm down. We hear her shouting and sobbing, throwing things and then growing incredibly quiet.

We wait and wait, but by dinner time we realise it's clear she won't come out on her own. While Haymitch and I make our way to the dinner table, Effie offers to fetch Katniss. She clearly holds some sort of compassion for Katniss, which I find endearing. The floor is so quiet that the sound of Effie's rapping can be heard from the sitting room. I listen out, and thank the Gods when I hear her door creak open and footsteps sound in the hallway.

Cinna and Portia are already waiting for us at the table, and a couple seconds later, Effie and Katniss sit down too. Everybody is incredibly quiet apart from small chatter, and I can feel how awkward and upset Katniss feels being here. While we eat our first course of fish soup, she hides her face in the bowl, taking tiny sips. All I want to do is reach over and hug her, tell her it's okay to be sad and that I'm here.

While adults make chit-chat and small talk over the second course, Katniss slides her over to me. I raise my eyebrows, asking her a question. She gives a small shake of her head, making her look so small and vulnerable. My hands shake with the urge of wanting to comfort her.

Haymitch suddenly interrupt, "OK, enough small talk - just how bad were you today?" he asks.

I jump in, "I don't know that it mattered. By the time I showed up, no one even bothered to look at me. They were singing some kind of drinking song, I think. So I threw around some heavy objects until they told me I could go."

Katniss stiff hunched over figure softens slightly as I retell my bad session to the group, but she still looks so fragile. Haymitch can tell that she's still not okay and asks her softly, "And you, sweetheart?"

When she speaks, her voice sounds small. "I shot an arrow at the Gamemakers." she admits

Everybody stops eating, me included. My breath stays in my chest, my heartbeat stops. "You _what?_ " Effie says in horror, clutching at her chest. The tone of her voice hits Katniss in the chest, her face etching in emotional pain.

"I shot an arrow at them. Not exactly at them. In their direction. It's like Peeta said," she says, looking to me with her grey eyes. "I was shooting and they were ignoring me and I just... I just lost my head, so I shot an apple out of their stupid roast pig's mouth!" she finishes defiantly, remembering the anger she felt in the session. I can't blame her at all. The Gamemakers were so rude and so ignorant, and she loses her temper so easily that I realise I should've guessed that their behaviour could have provoked the fire inside of her.

Cinna speaks carefully, "And what did they say?"

"Nothing. Or I don't know. I walked out after that," I say.

"Without being dismissed?" Effie gasps. I'm almost sure she's having a heart attack.

"I dismissed myself."

"Well, that's that," Haymitch says, buttering a roll.

Katniss straightens up, her focus on Haymitch. "Do you think they'll arrest me?" she asks nervously.

"Doubt it. Be a pain to replace you at this stage," Haymitch replies.

"What about my family? Will they punish them?" she asks, her eyes full of worry. I feel her worry too. The Gamemakers can find a way to punish Katniss herself in the Games, that's already sorted, but her family could be in danger of the Capitol's wrath.

"Don't think so. Wouldn't make much sense." Haymitch says, and you can see Katniss visibly breathe a sigh of relief. "See, they'd have to reveal what happened in the Training Centre for it to have any worthwhile effect on the population. People would need to know what you did. But they can't since it's secret, so it'd be a waste of effort. More likely they'll make your life hell in the arena."

"Well, they've already promised to do that to us anyway," I interject, trying to comfort Katniss' nerves.

"Very true," Haymitch admits. I cast a tentative look to Katniss, who seems so much brighter now. I feel as though we've all actually managed to cheer her up somehow. Haymitch begins to eat again. "What were their faces like?" he asks, smiling at her.

Katniss smiles back, which fills my heart up. "Shocked. Terrified. Uh, ridiculous, some of them. One man tripped backwards into a bowl of punch."

Haymitch guffaws, and everybody except Effie starts to laugh; but even I can tell she's suppressing a small smile. "Well, it serves them right. It's their job to pay attention to you. And just because you come from District 12 is no excuse to ignore you." Effie points out, her eyes darting around the table. "I'm sorry, but that's what I think." she adds on, as if justifying her comment like it's some outrageous thing to say.

"I'll get a very bad score," Katniss says.

"Scores only matter if they're very good; no one pays much attention to the bad or mediocre ones. For all they know, you could be hiding your talents to get a low score on purpose. People use that strategy," Portia inputs.

I scuff. "I hope that's how people interpret the four I'll probably get," I say. "If that. Really, is anything less impressive than watching a person pick up a heavy ball and throw it a couple of metres? One almost landed on my foot."

Katniss grins at me, finding solace in the fact that she wasn't the only one who messed up slightly. She begins to eat, making me realise that we've settled her mood much more. Pride settles in me, her good mood making mine better, too.

After dinner, we go into the sitting room to watch the scores be announced live on the television. The standard protocol is they show a photo of the tribute and flash their scores below it with a little commentary over the top of it. District 12 comes last. My face flashes up on the screen and I feel so much relief when I see an eight pull up on the screen. Maybe some of the Gamemakers were impressed by me, then, I guess. It's hard to believe.

When Katniss' face appears on the screen, that's when everybody really pulls in. We all lean in, as if that will make the score come in faster. I notice Katniss is digging her fingernails into her hands. The number eleven flashes up on the screen. Eleven!

Effie lets out a squeal, and everybody begins congratulating her on her incredibly impressive score. "There must be a mistake. How... how could that happen?" she asks, befuddled.

"Guess they liked your temper," Haymitch says. "They've got a shower to put on. They need some players with some heat."

"Katniss, the girl who was on fire," Cinna says to her, pulling her in for a hug. I wish I could her. "Oh, wait until they see your interview dress."

"More flames?" she asks him.

"Of a sort," he says, a mischievous grin on his face.

I go closer to her to give her my congratulations, and it feels slightly awkward but I try to ignore it. After a little while, we all grow tired and retire to bed. The stress of the day has given me a headache, and I fall asleep with no worries.

* * *

When dawn arrives, I realise that it's Sunday. A good trading day back in the bakery. We'd normally try to stock up a little in the early morning before baking a variety of breads, cakes and pastries. I cast my mind to my father, his warm arms open for me whenever my mothers cruel hands slap me down.

Effie knocks on my door as a wake-up call, making me realise that I've spent much too long lying in bed. Tomorrow is the night of our interviews, and today we will be talked to by the entire team to get ready for them. I can't help but realise just how close it is until the Games actually start.

I get up, showering in the rose soap again. My skin's beginning to really smell like roses on a daily basis now, and I can't help but absolutely love it. The smell is calming for some reason. I dress and head down the dining room for breakfast. The smell of food is intoxicating this morning, and my stomach rumbles.

Effie and Haymitch are talking in hushed tones, but they shut up when I reach the table. "What?" I ask. "What are you talking about?"

Effie blushes, her cheeks a deep pink. "Well, Haymitch has been talking to me..." she says, unable to find the words. "He's... he's told me about..."

"I told her about how're you're deeply in love with Katniss and your plan to keep her alive," Haymitch says, eating a chunk of bread roll.

"Yes. Yes," Effie says. She looks emotional, her eyes welling up slightly. "I just... it's so beautiful, and so... so sad!"

"We all know it's a tragedy, two little star-crossed lovers, blah blah," Haymitch says. "But we need to work this out. The interviews are tomorrow, and you're going to be telling the whole of Panem about your love for Katniss. And I don't exactly think that we have a lot of time to talk before Katniss walks in for breakfast, so I'm going to have to coach you separately today, or else she's going to find out early."

"What's wrong with that? She's going to find out anyway," I say sullenly, perishing at the thought of all of this.

"We need it to look real on her face. The shock of your secret love of all these years, blah blah. We need to make sure people know we're not just making this up for sponsors," Haymitch explains. "Besides, you know what she can be like."I scoff, laughing a little. Haymitch smiles at me. I hope he realises how difficult this will be for me.

When Katniss reaches the table, we have just finished our discussion. I'm worried she's heard something, but she just sits and begins to eat some breakfast. Everybody is silent, until Katniss takes a big gulp of orange juice and wipes her mouth. "So, what's going on? You're coaching us on interviews today, right?" she asks.

"That's right," Haymitch says.

"You don't have to wait until I'm done. I can listen and eat at the same time," she offers.

"Well, there's been a chance of plans. About our current approach," says Haymitch. My stomach swirls and I wish I hadn't eaten so much because now I feel so sick.

"What's that?" Katniss asks.

Haymitch shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant. "Peeta has asked to be coached separately."

I can almost feel a lava explosion of Katniss' anger, hurt and betrayal. I wish she knew the truth.

But it won't take long for her to find out.


	9. Chapter 9

**PART ONE | THE TRIBUTES**

 **CHAPTER NINE**

* * *

It takes all of me to forget the way Katniss' face fell when Haymitch told her I wanted to be coached separately; even though it's a lie Haymitch used to cover our plan.

I watch as she goes through a plethora of emotions in just seconds before settling into her normal poker-face. "Good," she says. "So what's the schedule?"

Haymitch explains that both he and Effie have four hours with us. Katniss is to go with Effie first, and I'm given Haymitch which scares me. I go with him to the sitting room where we sit on the couch together. We wait a few minutes to ensure that Katniss and Effie have disappeared before he starts talking.

"I've been thinking a lot about you, and how you're going to do this," Haymitch says. "Of course, Caeser Flickerman won't just _ask_ you if you're in love with your fellow tribute. You have to work the interview, play it to your advantage."

"Do you have any ideas how I can do that?" I ask.

"You're likeable. You're funny. You're not bad looking. I think we could easily play into the 'so many girls must be in love with you' angle," he says. I nod, the idea making sense, but being completely unsure of how exactly to do that. "So, why don't you pretend that I'm Caesar and we'll roleplay this thing out."

"Okay," I agree.

Haymitch composes himself. "So, Peeta, tell me," he says in a fake Capitol accent. It's so ridiculous that I can't help but splutter into laughter, with Haymitch joining in with me. "Okay, I won't do the voices." He gives a small cough before starting again. We play out a few different opening lines and scenarios in which I have to try to come up with ways of changing the conversation. Haymitch believes strongly that there aren't many ways Caeser will be able to start the conversation that we haven't already gone through because I've been a little bland so far. While I did make a show at the Opening Ceremonies, Katniss did also. Then she completely outshone me with the training scores, where mine was probably overlooked by many because of her eleven.

I don't mind that I'm being overlooked, really, either. I'd rather Katniss get all the sponsors, and it makes swerving the interview into what I want it to be much easier. I leave with a smile on my face, feeling satisfied that my plan is going to go well.

Next, I meet with Effie. We go into my room where she chooses a plain looking suit and some dress shoes that will be similar to the same sort of thing I'll be wearing to the interview. The outfit is uncomfortable and tight, but I feel like I look good in it which helps in exuding a confidence that I'll need to make Caeser think I'm good looking enough for some girls back home, or something.

Effie makes me practise walking around, standing up tall and not hunched, getting my posture perfect but also casual. We work on eye contact, the tones of my voice, my body language and my smile. She makes me say different things while doing all these different things and it grows incredibly menial and tiring.

"You've done splendidly," Effie says. "Much better than Katniss, anyway."

"What was she like?" I ask.

"She's just... not a people person," she says delicately. "She's been so brilliant so far, and really, I think this interview could ruin her if it wasn't for your and Haymitch's little plan. It'll make her so much more likeable."

"Ah," I pause, unsure what to say. Her comments have worried me - the interviews are crucial for sponsorship. If she doesn't get any people who like her, she'll struggle to survive even though she's so good at hunting and trapping.

Effie suddenly gets emotional again. "Oh, Peeta," she says. "I just... you love her, and it's just so sad... My star-crossed lovers."

She pulls me in for a hug, which I want to scramble away from, but instead I pat her on the back and let her hold me for as long as she wants to. _Star-crossed_ _lovers_... she couldn't be more wrong. Katniss doesn't love me.

At dinner, Katniss never shows up. We find out a little later that she'd ordered food to come to her room. While the rest of us eat, however, Haymitch told me that their session didn't go exactly very well; just like her one with Effie as well. She mustn't be feeling good, but I know that my presence won't comfort her in any way, so I just leave her be. Maybe being alone is what she needs anyway after an afternoon of Haymitch and Effie telling her that she sucks.

As soon as we finish dinner, I make my way to my room. I feel like maybe some alone time would be good for me, too. I fiddle with some buttons in my room, messing with the lights and the windows and the television. I fiddle until I'm bored and realise that all I want to do is just sleep.

I climb into bed, letting images of Katniss in her Opening Ceremonies outfit wash through me. I think of every memory I've ever had with her, even the painful ones. When I finally fall asleep, she's the person that I see in my dreams.

* * *

My prep team stand over me when I wake at dawn. They don't finish working with me and making me look astonishingly handsome until the late afternoon. By the time they're done with me, my skin is glowing. My eyes look a brighter blue than normal, my eyelashes longer, my hair the colour of sand at a beach. They contour my face slightly, making my cheekbones and jaw look more defined.

Portia enters with my suit, a sleek velvet black number with red flame ringer linings. I slip into it, feeling it's silky material on my bare skin. It's so light and well-fitting, nothing like the suit I tried on with Effie. Portia adjusts the fit slightly, positioning me before they all step back to look at me.

"It looks wonderful, Peeta," Portia says, with the little prep team birds tweeting about how handsome I look. Portia makes me face toward the mirror to get a good look at myself, and I realise that I do look quite handsome. I'm grateful for the way the prep team have made my hair and face - I look so healthy and real.

"Thank you, Portia," I say. "Thank you, guys, too. This is... amazing. Thank you."

Portia sends the prep team away and stands with me on my own for a moment. "So, how're you feeling?" she says.

"Well, I look good, that's for sure," I joke.

She raises an eyebrow, giving me a look. "Haymitch told me, you know," she says, her hand on my shoulder. "How're you _really_ feeling?"

I gulp. "Nervous. I just... I'm not ready for this," I admit, realising how true that is once I've said it. Talking about it with Haymitch didn't feel real, planning it made it feel even less real. Even being here right now, in my outfit, just about to go out to wait for my interview, it doesn't feel real. But when I finally say to Portia that I'm not ready, it all comes crumbling now. My stomach twists, a knot growing inside of me that makes me want to heave and I begin to sweat slightly.

Portia takes hold of my hands. "Peeta... I don't know everything about you and Katniss. How you feel about her, how she feels about you. But over the days I've known you both, I know that there's something there," she says. I lift my head to look into her sparkly eyes. "Think about all of the other tributes. You two are so different from them. When Haymitch told me about your love for her, I realised that this explained what exactly was different."

"But she doesn't love me," I protest. "Exactly how can I go out there and tell her, tell the whole world, that I'm in love with someone who doesn't love me?"

"Because if you don't tell her now, she won't get more of an advantage in these Games," she starts. "Because if you don't tell her now, you'll never get another chance to. Because if you don't tell her now, Peeta, you'll never know for sure if she feels the same."

I let her works sink into my skin, but before I get a chance to reply I am called to wait for my interview. I walk out into the corridor, meeting up with the whole District 12 crowd. Katniss is breathtaking. Her arms are painted in intricate details, her make-up is contoured to draw attraction to her features, her hair is a beautifully classic braid that falls from her shoulder. But it's the dress that really makes my heart hurt the power of love.

Her dress clings to her top half, giving her curves, but the bottom flings out around her. It's covered in reflective gems of red, orange and yellow that gives the impression she's covered in fire. Cinna's words ring in my ears: _the girl on fire_.

I manage to find a way to move my legs into the elevator to go down to the waiting room. All twenty-four tributes are lined up, which irritates me. I hate being from District 12 because it makes Katniss and I always go last in whatever we do. By the time we get to do our thing, everybody is tired from watching everyone else do their thing.

Before Haymitch and Effie leave us to wait, Effie gives us some compliments that we graciously accept and thank. Haymitch comes up behind us and growls, "Remember, you're still a happy pair. So act like it." Then he leaves us.

Katniss looks a little annoyed, but I know that Haymitch is still trying to keep up our act so that my interview goes more smoothly. Oh God... my interview. I can't back out of this. My breathing gets rapid and shallow, and I notice too that Katniss is getting anxious as well, but I can barely notice her nervousness because mine is so overbearing. My pulse is pounding in my head, in my chest, in my everything. I'm going to tell everybody I love her. I'm going to tell Katniss that I love her.

I'm going to tell Katniss that I love her.

The interviews are always so smooth. Caeser Flickerman is incredibly amazing at his job: he makes the shy tributes talk, he makes the weak ones look stronger. I look at the television that is in the waiting room, allowing us to watch other tributes interviews while we wait for our own. Caeser's hair is powder blue, and his eyelids and lips are coloured the exact same shade. I don't like the way it looks, but I do like the colour.

Caeser tells a few jokes before starting the interviews. The first one is a girl from District 1 who is wearing a provocative gold gown that's practically see through. Her blonde hair falls down her shoulders like a waterfall. Her mentor obviously pinned her in the sexy angle for the interviews.

Each interview last three minutes. Not a whole lot of time, but it does make them quick. Katniss sits in a ladylike fashion as we wait, watching as the tributes pass by. Everyone seems to have an angle - ruthless killing machines, sly and elusive... Everybody has some sort of defining feature, too, like the little girl from 11, Rue. Her interview was shining.

"I'm very hard to catch," she had said in her small voice. "And if they can't catch me, they can't kill me. So don't count me out."

Caeser gave a bright smile. "I wouldn't in a million years," he said back to her.

After Rue came her fellow male tribute, then it was Katniss. She makes herself stand even though I can see her shaking. Once she's out of sight, my eyes are glued to the television screen. She shakes Caeser's hand before sitting down. "So, Katniss, the Capitol must be quite a change from District 12. What's impressed you most since you arrived here?" he asks.

Katniss seems to stammer, completely wordless. My body seizes up, leaning closer toward the television. She licks her lips, trying to find some words. "The lamb stew," she manages.

Caeser laughs heartily, and some of the audience join in. "The one with the dried plums?" he asks, and Katniss nods. "Oh, I eat it by the bucketful. It doesn't show does it?" he turns to the audience, patting his stomach. They shout out reassurances and applaud loudly which makes him give one of his killer white smiles. "Now, Katniss, when you came out in the opening ceremonies, my heart actually stopped. What did you think of that costume?"

She pauses. "You mean after I got over my fear of being burned alive?" she jokes. A big laugh ensues.

"Yes. Start then," Caeser says.

"I thought Cinna was brilliant and it was the most gorgeous costume I'd ever seen and I couldn't believe I was wearing it. I can't believe I'm wearing this either." she says, lifting up her skirt slightly to spread it out and show the audience. I marvel at it's beauty, at her beauty. "I mean, look at it!"

The audience oohs and ahs. Katniss is much better at the interviews then I thought she would be from Haymitch and Effie's feedback. All of sudden, she stands up and beings to twirl in a circle.

"Oh, do that again!" Caeser encourages. So she does, spinning and spinning around until she's engulfed in flames. I feel my nerves floating away while I stare at her being licked by the flames. Looking at how amazing she is, how beautiful she is, I almost feel ready to tell the world that I love her. I'm proud that I love her. Who wouldn't be in love with her? Just look at her.

When Katniss stops twirling, she seems dizzy as she tries to clutch to Caeser's arm. "Don't stop!" he says.

"I have to, I'm dizzy!" she says, giggling. It's such a sweet, twinkling sound coming from her mouth.

Caeser wraps an arm around her. "Don't worry, I've got you. Can't have you following you in your mentors footsteps." The audience gives a hooting laugh as the camera angles switch to Haymitch who gives a good-natured wave. "It's all right, she's safe with me." Caeser reassures the audience before continuing. "So, how about that training score. E-le-ven. Give us a hint what happened in there."

Katniss looks up and bites her lip. "Uh... all I can say is, I think it was a first." The Gamemakers are now shown on camera, who chuckle and nod with good spirits.

"You're killing us," Caeser says, acting as though he's in actual pain. "Details. Details."

"I'm not supposed to talk about it, right?" Katniss says, addressing the balcony where the Gamemakers sit.

"She's not!" one of them shouts down.

"Thank you," she says. "Sorry. My lips are sealed."

"Let's go back, then, to the moment they called your sister's name at the reaping, and you volunteered. Can you tell us about her?" Caeser says softly.

Katniss takes a few seconds to speak, and my heart beats loudly in my chest. "Her name's Prim. She's ust twelve. And I love her more than anything."

The entire audience is silent. Everybody is silent, hanging onto her every word. "What did she say to you? After the reaping?" Caeser asks.

She swallows hard. "She asked me to try really hard to win."

"And what did you say?" he prompts.

"I swore I would." she said solemnly, deeply meaning it in every fibre of her being. My muscles tense up. We're on the same team, then. The winning team.

"I bet you did," Caeser said, giving her a squeeze before the buzzers goes off, indicating the end of her interview. "Sorry, we're out of time. Best of luck, Katniss Everdeen, tribute from District 12."

The audience applauses until she's back in her seat, and I come on screen. Caeser introduces me warmly and I sit with one leg over the other, spread out to look confident but casual. "Peeta!" he calls. "Tell me, how are you finding the Capitol, and don't say with a map!"

The audience laughs and I join in, giving a bright smile like the ones I practised with Effie.

"It's different, it's very different here," I say.

"Different. In what way, give us an example," Caeser prompts.

"Uh, well the showers here are weird," I say jokingly.

"The showers," he says. "We have different _showers_." The audience laughs heartily as we banter.

"Tell me, do I still smell like roses?" I say, and then we have a little joke where we sniff each other that brings the entire audience down into laughing fits.

"So, Peeta, tell me," he changes the subject once the laughter died down. "Is there a special girl back home?" I hesitate before shaking my head, entirely unconvincingly. I hadn't expected this part of the interview to come so quickly. Now that it's finally here, I want to back out of this whole thing more than ever. But Caeser keeps probing me, making me realise I have to do this. I have to. "Handsome lad like you." he says. "There must be some special girl. Come on, what's her name?"

I sigh. _Just do it, Peeta,_ I scream internally. "Well, there is this one girl." I start. "I've had a crush on her ever since I can remember. But I'm pretty sure she didn't know I was alive until the reaping."

Sounds of sympathy come from the crowd, little oohs of others who understand the unrequited love. "She have another fellow?" Caeser asks.

"I don't know, but a lot of boys like her," I say.

"So, here's what you do. You win, you go home. She can't turn you down then, eh?" says Caeser with encouragement.

"I don't think it's going to work out. Winning... won't help in my case," I say.

Caeser looks mystified and confused. "Why ever not?"

I feel my cheeks turning a beetroot red, and I take a huge breath that rattles through my lungs. I stammer the next few words out. "Because... because... she came here with me."


	10. Chapter 10

**PART TWO | THE GANES**

 **CHAPTER TEN**

* * *

For a moment, the whole world stops and silence ensues. Some of the screens placed around the auditorium show Katniss' face backstage. Her mouth is slightly hanging open, her face showing a mixture of surprise and protest. She presses her lips together tightly, whitening them out and then staring at the floor.

"Oh, that is a piece of bad luck," Caeser says. There's a real edge of pain to his voice. The crowd begin to murmur in agreement; a few are even crying out.

"It's not good," I agree.

"Well, I don't think any of us can blame you. It'd be hard not to fall for that young lady," Caeser admits, and I feel some small rejoice inside. My plan is working well. "She didn't know?" he asks.

I shake my head, remembering that fact very well, the images of her face haunting me. "Not until now." I say. I look toward the screen again, and see Katniss flitting her eyes up. Her cheeks are almost as red as the fire in her dress.

"Wouldn't you love to pull her back out here and get a response?" Caeser asks the audience, grinning. The crowd screams in agreement. "Sadly, rules and rules, and Katniss Everdeen's time has been spent. Well, best of luck to you, Peeta Mellark, and I think I speak for all of Panem when I say our hearts go with yours."

Roaring comes from the crowd, deafening me. When they settle down slightly, I manage to choke out a small 'thank you' before returning to my seat. The anthem plays, ending the interview show.

After the anthem ends, the tributes file back into the lobby and find their respective teams. Katniss avoids me entirely as we find out way back to the elevators and up to our floor. My stomach writhes in nerves, wishing that she could just say something to me. A million scenarios play out in my head. One she screams at me, one she cries, one she hates me, one she loves me. None of them seem real, but my mind won't stop going into overdrive until I finally reach the twelfth floor.

The very second I step out, Katniss pushes into my chest. I lose my balance and fall backwards into an urn, which shatters into tiny pieces. I land in the pile of shards, and blood begins to flow from my hands almost immediately. In none of the scenarios did I imagine that she would attack me. "What was that for?" I say, shocked.

"You had no right! No right to go saying those things about me!" she shouts.

The elevators open again, and the crew come piling out them. "What's going on?" Effie says, hysteria lining her voice. "Did you fall?"

"After she shoved me," I say, being helped by Effie and Cinna.

Haymitch turned to Katniss, angry. "Shoved him?"

"This was your idea, wasn't it? Turning me into some kind of fool in front of the entire country?" she shouts again, not bothered by Haymitch's anger.

"It was my idea," I admit. I pull out of the shards from my hands, wincing as I do so. Pain lances through my skin, the blood flowing freely. "Haymitch just helped me with it."

"Yes, Haymitch is very helpful. To you!" Katniss screams.

"You _are_ a fool," Haymitch snarls, disgusted. "Do you think he hurt you? That boy just gave you something you could never achieve on your own."

"He made me look weak!" she spits.

"He made you look desirable!" he retorts, shutting her up slightly. "And let's face it, you an use all the help you can get in that department. You were about as romantic as dirt until he said he wanted you. Now they all do. You're all they're talking about. The star-crossed lovers from District 12!"

"But we're not star-crossed lovers!" she says.

Haymitch grabs her by the shoulders and pins her against the wall. I try to get over to them, to stop him from hurting her, but Effie stops me. "Who cares? It's all a big show. It's all how you're perceived. The most I could say about you after your interview was that you were nice enough, although that in itself is a small miracle." Haymitch snaps. Katniss is completely quiet in his grip. "Now I can say you're a heart-breaker. Oh, oh, oh how the boys back home fall longingly at your feet. Which do you think will get you more sponsors?"

Katniss tries to wriggle away from his hands, and he lets go of her. She steps away, trying to clear her head. Cinna comes over to her side, and gives her a one-armed hug. "He's right, Katniss." he tells her.

"I should have been told, so I didn't look so stupid." she says.

"No, your reaction was perfect. If you'd known, it wouldn't have read as real," Portia says. Everybody's support is making me feel so much better, making the whole situation feel so much better.

At the same time, though, I'm pissed off at her. She tried to attack me after I told the entire world I was in love with her... Does she not realise how much of me it took to do that? "She's just worried about her boyfriend," I say gruffly, tossing away more pieces of shards from my hand.

Katniss goes red again. "I don't have a boyfriend."

"Whatever," I say, thinking about Gale. I feel so incredibly stupid all of a sudden. She is already in love with someone else, how could I ever thought that telling her I loved her would be a good idea? It was so... so... _stupid_. "But I bet he's smart enough to know a bluff when he sees it. Besides, _you_ didn't say you loved _me_. So what does it matter?"

My own words break my heart. It hurts me so much to accept that she doesn't love me back. Katniss stays very quiet, and I wonder if I've gotten through to her. If any of us have. "After he said he loved me, did you think I could be in love with him, too?" she asks.

I furrow my brow, confused. What did that even matter?

"I did," Portia says. She looks to me, her face full of genuine honesty that confused me even more. "The way you avoided looking at the cameras, the blush." Everybody else chimed in, agreeing.

Haymitch tries to change the subject of our unrequited love. "You're golden, sweetheart. You're going to have sponsors lined up around the block," he tells her.

Katniss turns to me. "I'm sorry I shoved you."

I can't bring myself to look at her. "Doesn't matter," I say, shrugging. "Although it's technically illegal."

"Are your hands OK?" she asks.

"They'll be alright," I say.

Silence follows before Haymitch speaks again. "Come on, let's eat," he says. I feel hungry, but the blood loss is getting to my head slightly. I try to get some stuff on my plate when we're all at the dinner table, but my hands are bleeding too heavily, so Portia leads me off to get some medical attention. They patch me up then let me get back to the food, which is slightly cold by the time I return. I shove a few platefuls down me, feeling guilty that I've made everybody else wait for me

After I've finished eating, we all adjourn to the sitting room and watch the replays of the interviews. We watch as Katniss twirls around in her dress, being doused in fire again. I can't help but notice how charming my whole demeanour is, and thank Effie for her help in that department. When the replays ends and the anthem fades out, the screen goes completely dark and a hush falls over the room. Right now is the first time I've realised that the Games start tomorrow morning. At dawn, we will be woken and taken to the arena for the Games to start at ten o'clock in the morning. The only people who will be coming on the journey to the arena with us are our stylists so that they can give us the outfits.

This is goodbye, really.

Effie takes both Katniss and I in her hands, her eyes tearing up. She wishes us well and thanks us for being the best tributes she's ever had. It's all very touching until she says, "I wouldn't be surprised if I finally get promoted to a decent district next year!" which ruins the sweet mood she previously set.

She kisses us each on the cheek and hurries out, much too emotional. Haymitch looks at us squarely, crossing his arms. "Any final words of advice?" I ask, half-joking.

"When the gong sounds, get the hell out of there. You're neither of you up to the bloodbath at the Cornucopia. Just clear out, put as much distance as you can between yourselves and the others, and find a source of water," he says. His actual advice shocks me a little. It's incredibly useful. "Got it?"

"And after that?" Katniss asks.

"Stay alive," Haymitch says. We both nod. I guess there's not much else to say, really. Staying alive is the main priority of the Games.

Katniss lingers off down the corridor to her room, but I stay to hang back to talk to Portia for a little minute. I tap her gently on the shoulder to catch her attention. "Can I talk to you for a second?" I ask her quietly. She nods and I pull her off to the side of the room. "Earlier, when Katniss asked if it looked like she could love me too, what did you mean when you said yes?"

Portia tilts her head, giving me a very Portia-like look. "Peeta," she purrs. "I don't lie. When Katniss asked that, I told her the truth."

"You told her that it seemed like she was in love with me," I say. "That wasn't the truth. You saw how she reacted. I had to get stitches!"

She laughs lightly. "Oh, Peeta," she says. "You're naïve in love; but that is okay - you are young. Katniss pushed you, yes, but her temper is made of fire and you doused the flames of her heart. When you told the world that you loved her, did you see her face?"

"Yes," I say in a small voice.

"Then there you go," she says. "I think you know what I'm talking about."

Portia walks away from me, but not before tapping my chin lightly. I don't know what she's talking about, but is there much point in trying to figure it out anyway? Tomorrow, we're going to be fighting for our lives in the Games and she'll be trying to kill me.

I walk to my room and settle into my bed. I close my eyes and the whole night replays over and over and over again in my head until I feel like I'm going to scream. I get so frustrated that I throw the covers off my body and want to punch something, but I restrain myself. Instead, I decide to go walk around the floor a little to try to calm down, to try to take my mind away from everything until I'm too tired to stay awake at all. Somehow, I find my way up to the roof. I stand right near the edge and breathe in the night air, watching as the stars pass above me. All of a sudden, a voice sounds behind me that makes me jump slightly. "You should be getting some sleep." it says.

Katniss.

I shake my head slightly. "I didn't want to miss the party." I say, motioning to the crowds in the streets below who're drinking, dancing, eating and celebrating in anticipation of the Games. "It's for us, after all."

Katniss stands beside me, leaning over the edge to get a good look at the people. "Are they in costumes?" she asks, squinting at the streets.

"Who could tell?" I answered. "With all the crazy clothes they wear here. Couldn't sleep, either?" I ask.

"Couldn't turn my mind off," she says.

"Thinking about your family?"

"No," she admits in a small voice. "All I can do is wonder about tomorrow. Which is pointless, of course." She looks to my face then back down to my hands which're bandaged up. "I really am sorry about your hands."

"It doesn't matter, Katniss," I say, tiredly. "I've never been a contender in these Games anyway."

"That's no way to be thinking," she says.

"Why not? It's true. My best hope is not to disgrace myself and..." I say, trailing off, unsure if it's safe to safe the next few words.

"And what?" she questions.

I'm quiet for a second. I think back to how I took Katniss to the roof and how she opened up to me. I guess it's time for me to do the same in a proper, genuine way. "I don't know how to say it exactly. Only... I want to die as myself. Does that make any sense?" I say, but she shakes her head. I take a small breath. "I don't want them to change me in there. Turn me into some kind of monster that I'm not."

Katniss bites her lip. "Do you mean you won't kill anyone?" she asks.

"No, when the time comes, I'm sure I'll kill just like everybody else. I can't go down without a fight. Only I keep wishing I could think of a way to... to show the Capitol they don't own me. That I'm more than just a piece in their Games," I say.

Katniss looks disgruntled. "But you're not," she says. "None of us are. That's how the Games work."

"OK, but within that framework, there's still you, there's still me," I insist. "Don't you see?"

"A little. Only... no offence, but who cares, Peeta?" she says.

I feel indignant. "I do. I mean, what else am I allowed to care about at this point?" I ask angrily, locking my eyes onto her, demanding an answer. She takes a step back. I feel angry that she just doesn't care about it beyond herself. Can't she see the people down there, dancing and cheering at our incoming deaths?

"Care about what Haymitch said. About staying alive." she says.

I smile at her, kind of mockingly. She's really pissed me off these past few days, and the worst thing is, I keep trying hard for her. To make things better. But she just doesn't listen to me, or seem to care. Heartbreak is killing me and changing me. "OK. Thanks for the tip, sweetheart."

She looks shocked at my attitude. Maybe she needs a little attitude back, sometimes, I think to myself. "Look, if you want to spend the last hours of your life planning some noble death in the arena, that's your choice. I want to spend mine in District 12."

"Wouldn't surprise me if you," I say, thinking of my mother. "Give my mother my best when you make it back, will you?"

"Count on it," she says. It stabs me in the chest. She turns and leaves without another world, and I realise that this is the last conversation we're likely to have and I ruined it by having a go at her.

After a little while, I return to my room. Luckily, I've exhausted myself out and fall asleep with little worry this time. Portia wakes me at dawn, giving me some simple clothes to wear before leading me to the roof. The final outfit, the one I'll be wearing in the arena, will be done when we're actually there in a dressing room underneath the arena. I don't see Katniss before I get onto the hovercraft.

When I climb into it, a woman in a white coat stabs with a syringe. "This is your tracker, Peeta. The stiller you are, the more efficiently I can place it," she says. It goes deep into my skin and beeps, emitting a tracking signal for the Gamemakers to keep track of all of the tributes. The woman leaves the hovercraft, and it takes off with Portia and I on board. We eat a hearty breakfast. I can't taste much due to my nerves, but I know that I need to eat lots because it could be a while before my next meal.

The windows black out when we get closer to the arena. When we land, Portia and I climb carefully out the hovercraft via a ladder and to the Launch Room, where I'll be dressed in my arena clothing and sent up toward the arena when the time comes. I struggle to keep my breakfast down as I clean in the shower, using my last lot of rose shower gel that I'll probably ever use. It's hard to savour the feeling of the warm water on my skin, the floral smell up my nose, when I'm so nervous.

Portia hasn't had any said in my outfit - it's just an arena standard outfit. She passes me the clothes: black leather boots, a simple pair of trousers, a light green shirt, a brown belt and a thin, hooded black jacket. "The material is suppose to reflect body heat, so it may be that the arena is slightly cold," Portia tells me. "Does it fit OK?"

"Yes, thank you," I say quietly, full of nerves.

"I guess now we wait for the call," she says. We sit and I pick at some more food and drink a little water, trying to hold it all down. I find myself biting on my lip after a while. My terror is slowly rising, bubbling to the surface. I have no idea what to expect.

A female voice suddenly calls, telling us both that it's time to prepare for launch. Portia grabs my shoulders. "Remember her, Peeta. Remember your promise, and spend every day surviving on that promise you made to keep her alive," she says. "It's what you want still, right?"

"Yes," I say firmly. It's the one thing I know to be true. Every decision I make as soon as I'm in that arena is to save her.

I step into the glass circular cylinder, breaking us off from each other. I feel a rush of fondness for her. Out of many Capitol people I've met, she's been one of the kindest and most understanding. I try to stand up straight as the cylinder rises, lifting me above ground and into the open air. I'm dazed by the sunlight, the brightness of it confusing me. I look around, the chilly open air shocking me. The smell of pine trees is floating around me.

The Games announcers, Claudius Templesmith, voice booms. "Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games begin!"


	11. Chapter 11

**PART TWO | THE GAMES**

 **CHAPTER ELEVEN**

* * *

We're made to stand for sixty seconds on the podium. If you go one second earlier, you're blown to smithereens by landmines buried in the ground. In the middle of the open green area where the twenty four tributes surround, a giant golden Cornucopia stands, it's tail in the air and it's mouth full of a bountiful treasure of weaponry and items that are pivotal to survival. The point is that all of the twenty four tributes go toward the bounty and fight to the death for its contents. Something Haymitch explicitly told Katniss and I not to do.

I look around. There's a steep downward hill to one side, a lake to another. The biggest part is a sparse woods that looks as if it it gets thicker the further you get into it. Once I've quickly surveyed the surroundings, I try to find which pedestal Katniss is standing on. She's about five tributes away from me to my left, and I look at her. She's staring at the cornucopia, her stare fixed. I try to see what it is she's looking at and immediately notice the bow and arrow set shining in the middle, screaming " _come get me, Katniss! Come get me!_ ".

All of a sudden, she notices me and stares right back at me. My stare puts her off, so I keep holding it until the gong rings and the timer goes off. She's missed her chance. I thank the stars, because she could have died going into that bloodbath. I watch her, transfixed about her safety, barely realising I haven't even stepped off my pedestal yet. Her legs are confused for a few seconds before she decides to pick up a backpack lying on the ground.

I realise, at last, that I need to move. I jump off the pedestal and run toward the woods. I run faster than I ever have in my life. My arms swish at my side, speeding me up. When I reach the wooded area, the mud packed ground feels uneven beneath my feet. I don't know where I'm going, but I keep running in a straight line until I can't hear any of the yelling or screaming coming from the Cornucopia any more.

Panting, I decide I need to stop. Haymitch told me to run from the bloodbath, then find water. But the only place I remember water being is the huge lake which is far too near to the Cornucopia to bother trying to stay by. I could look around for another source of water, but it doesn't feel safe to be searching just yet.

I stand by a tree, poised to run again if I need to. Why didn't I think about what I was going to do before I came in here? Instead, I had spent my whole time thinking about Katniss and everything happened between us. Now here I am, in the Games, with no plan at all of how I'm going to keep Katniss alive; or even manage to keep myself alive long enough to figure out how to keep her alive.

Footsteps suddenly beat around me, alerting me that I'm not alone. I begin to sprint again in a different direction, hoping that I'm getting away and away and away from the beats.

* * *

I'm standing on the edge of a clearing, a couple hours after the initial bloodbath, hoping that I've got a good view if anyone decides to keep me company. My legs are tired, but I refuse to sit down, scared that if I do, someone will ambush me and I won't be able to get up to run away fast enough. My mouth is dry already. Overindulgence in the Capitol has made my body used to basic needs like hydration.

The afternoon sun is setting, dropping height from the sky, making the atmosphere slightly cooler. I slouch against the tree I'm against, a huge oak thing. Perfect for Katniss to climb up and settle in. She's lucky she knows how to climb trees. She's lucky that this is the arena we've been given.

It's almost as if it's some sort of destiny that she wins this thing.

I decide I want to try to climb the tree so that I can sit down but still feel relatively safeish, so I try to get my foot stuck in a groove in the wood to hit myself up to a lower branch. It works, but I'm wobbly even on the lower branch. I try to get up further on the branches but I don't get very far until my breath is laboured and I can't reach the next branch. How does Katniss do this?

I sit with my legs hanging off the branch, surveying the woods around me. It's really beautiful, and I can't help but be transported back to 12 in my mind and the woods that circle the District. Katniss must be feeling as though she's in a place so similar to home. Maybe she feels like she has some sort of real hope being in these woods.

Oh god. What if someone got her, in the bloodbath? I've been thinking so much of myself and my own safety that I haven't even thought that one of the beastly Career tributes could have just threw a knife at her. She's been a target ever since she volunteered - an outline district tribute who's actually a real contender. Who got a better training score than any of them. She's what they'll be after.

Then it clicks. The Careers. If they're the people that're after her, then they're my biggest threats right now. There's no doubt that they've probably allied together. It always happens in the first part of the Games, when the stronger try to quickly pick off the others before there's few left and they have to kill each other. After the bloodbath at the Cornucopia, they're going to try to find Katniss and kill her. She's the only one that has a real chance of beating any of them, so they'll try to kill her together.

If I want to keep Katniss alive, I have to try to lead the Career's away from her. A plan begins to formulate in my mind, the plan that I should have come up with days ago when I first realised that I wanted to make sure Katniss won these Games. If I try to get myself caught by them, they'll probably make me try to show them where she is. I could be their best chance of finding her. I'm not sure how long I could string them along for before they get tired of me and kill me or something, but I'll figure that out later. Maybe if it gets to that, I'll be able to take one of them on. But even as I'm thinking those words, I know that they're not true.

As I jump down from the tree, I fall at an odd angle and hurt my ankle. "Shit," I curse aloud. It hurts too much to walk on properly, and I may have twisted it or something. I limp off, back through the clearing, as there isn't much time to lose obsessing over a twisted ankle. The Careers will being hunting for Katniss sooner rather than later.

Surprisingly, it seems as though I haven't actually ran that far away. I walk in a straight line, hoping that I'll see some sort of landmark that'll let me know where I am. The woods get sparser and sparser, and eventually I see the huge lake. Barely being able to hold myself back, I get to the water and drink it, making my hands into cups and shovelling the stuff down. My survival instincts tell me to run, because the Careers have surely already staked out this water source, but I know that I have to stay. They'll catch sight of me in a minute, sniffing me out like prey.

"Hey! Over there!" one of them shouts. It sounds like the District 1 girl, Glimmer. I look behind me to where the voice came from, still drinking from my hands. May as well get all the water I can before they get to me. Who knows if they'll let me drink anything, even if they don't kill me here and now?

They reach me, jogging. They don't need to sprint; they know they've already got me. "Oh look who it is!" the brown haired girl says. She's from District 2, if I can remember correctly. Clove, I think. "Lover boy."

"What is lover boy doing here, then, huh?" the blonde brute from one says, pushing me. I lose my balance and fall straight into the lake. I clamber out straight away, not wanting to be soaking wet when the weather gets colder. "Shouldn't you be with your girlfriend?"

"So, what do we do with him?" Glimmer asks, looking to Cato, once the four of them realise I'm not going to reply.

"We kill him." Clove says. It's when she says this that I notice she has blood splatters over her trousers and shirt and a couple of small throwing knifes clutched in her hand. She steps toward me, getting one of her knifes poised in her fingers.

Cato steps in front of her, stopping her. "No," he says. He looks at me, his eyebrows raised as if he's thinking this is all some brilliant plan of his own, but I can feel that he's stepping into my plan nicely. "We need him."

"What? Why do we need him?" says the brown haired boy, Marvel.

"He's our best chance of finding her," Cato says.

"What, puny little lover boy here? You really believed all that?" Clove snorts, her mouth snarling. "Let me have him."

"No!" I say. "Please," They all turn to look at me. It's hard to keep the giddiness off my face, but they're playing right into my plan. "If... if you keep me alive, then I can help you."

"Help us? You?" Clove snarls.

Cato puts a hand up, quietening her. "I can help you find where she is," I say.

"And why would you want to do that?" Glimmer asks. She lifts her hand up slightly and I notice she'd holding a bow, and her arrows are slung on her back.

"Come on, it's obvious," Clove says. "He was just saying all that sappy shit to get sponsors."

"What does it matter if it's true or not? There can only be one winner," I say.

They all pause, thinking. Eventually, Cato steps up to me, a sword in his grip. "If you show us where she is, we won't kill you. If you don't show us where she is, I'll cut you with this sword, but not deep enough to kill enough. Just enough to make you suffer," he says. "Then, when I find her, I'll kill her in front of you. Slowly. Painfully." He spits the last words out at me, threatening.

It really seems as if I have no other choice now. In fact, my plan is kind of ruined because both endings ultimately end up in Katniss' death. I'm actually a little afraid of how I'm going to work my way out of this one, but there isn't much else I can do right now but nod slowly and follow them as they walk back to the Cornucopia. Marvel stands behind me, his spear pinching into my back.

They let me have a small weapon and a bit of food, knowing they'll need to keep me alive enough to make sure I can help them find Katniss. We wait around in the Cornucopia a little, staking out the place and watching until the sun begins to set. The whole time, my mind is set on Katniss. How I can divert them away, while still leading them on to believe that I'm helping them.

The sky gets darker, and the anthem plays. Following the music comes the faces of the tributes who have died in the first day. There are eleven in total: the girl from District 3, the boy from 4, the boy from 5, both from 6 and 7, the boy from 8, both from 9 and the girl from 10. I can't help but feel so much relief that Katniss is still alive. It never even crossed my mind that she could have died... Somehow, I just knew she would stay alive.

 _Stay alive._ Haymitch's words ring through my body, and I give a shiver. I feel so weak already.

"Right, let's go," Cato says.

"Go?" I ask, involuntarily.

"Yes, go," he orders.

As we begin to walk, Marvel stands behind me again. "It's because everybody lets their guards down more at night. They need to sleep, they need to eat," he explains quietly. "Perfect time to kill."

We walk through the woods, seemingly aimlessly. Glimmer keeps telling us to shush whenever someone accidentally steps on a crunchy leaf or a twig. At some point, Clove stops us. "Look," she whispers, pointing to a steady stream of smoke coming from above the trees. We walk slowly down the small hill we've climbed up, finding the way toward the smoke.

The sky is slowly getting lighter, and I can't really believe that we've been walking around all night long. Then, when I think we've lost whoever created the smoke, Cato spots his next victim sleeping by the fire. They sprint into a run; even Glimmer doesn't care about the noise we're making with our feet now. Marvel makes me run too.

They're cheering incessantly. "Twelve down and eleven to go!" Cato shouts. It wakes the girl up, who begins to plead and cry, but the Careers just laugh. They check her for any good supplies, but they find nothing worth much value compared to the lot they have at the Cornucopia already and the stuff strapped to them now. Then, once Cato realises she has nothing good, he stabs her squarely with his sword. It's as simple as that.

"Better clear out so they can get the body before it starts stinking." he says. Glimmer, Clove and Marvel all murmur in agreement and begin to walk off. We stop in a clearing, using the flash-lights and torches to see where we are going.

"Shouldn't we have heard a cannon by now?" Clove says.

"I'd say yes. Nothing to prevent them from going in immediately." Marvel replies.

"Unless she isn't dead." Clove says.

"She's dead." Cato snaps. "I stuck her myself."

"Then where's the cannon?" she retorts, making a disgruntled face.

"Someone should go back." Glimmer says, stopping their argument from escalating. "Make sure the job's done."

"Yeah, we don't want to have to track her down twice." Marvel agrees.

"I said she's dead!" Cato shouts.

Everybody begins to argue, and perhaps it's the lack of sleep, but I snap and say something that I shouldn't "We're wasting time! I'll go finish her and let's move on!"


	12. Chapter 12

**PART TWO | THE GAMES**

 **CHAPTER TWELVE**

* * *

"Go on, then, Lover Boy," Cato says, surprised by my offer. Perhaps even a little impressed, what for the guy who almost pee his trousers when he first got threatened, I guess. "See for yourself."

I take a torch and head back to the fire where the girl is, still limping from my leg injury earlier in the day. The girl is still breathing shallowly, but slowly bleeding out. My guess is that she doesn't have much left to live anyway before she bleeds too much. I bend down to her, ignoring the pain from my ankle. "I... I'm sorry," I say. "I am so, so sorry." My eyes begin to water, but I can't look away from the girl as I stab my small knife into her wound deeper, and put her misery to an end. I see as her eyes flicker, the light disappearing. I always thought it was an old cliché, but it's not. I watch as she melts away, just an empty, dead body now.

Choking back a small sob, I begin to limp back to the Careers. They're silent when I return to the clearing. "Was she dead?" Cato said.

"No. But she is now," I say, the pictures of her eyes locked on mine flashing in my mind. The boom of the cannon stops the images, and I'm almost thankful despite what it signifies. "Ready to move on?" Cato asks once the boom stops shaking the trees.

Dawn is just beginning to break, and we begin to run off.

* * *

The days slip away with sleep, eating and drinking. The nights are full of murder. By the third day, we find Katniss.

The fire comes just at dawn as we wake. We're lucky to be near the Cornucopia having barely just finished up the nights hunting. The Gamemakers spit fireballs at us, shooting to kill. Luckily, after a few days, my limp has improved incredibly, but I'm slightly bloody and bruised from some beating around with the Careers whenever they pushed me around or anything. They're getting annoyed with me. With each and every day that passes, they lose more and more of their patience with me, and they're beginning to take it out on me.

It's getting harder leading them away from Katniss every single day. I've barely seen any sights of her, and even if I did, I wouldn't point them out. One day, I was sure I saw one of her snares, but I moved them on quickly, pretending I heard a rustling above some tree somewhere.

Even though my limp is better, it's sill difficult to run so fast and so far, but I don't have any other choice unless I want to burn to death. Marvel isn't behind me with his spear, they're all ahead of me, running and running and running. When we finally make it back to the Cornucopia, I'm completely breathless and wheezing.

Falling to the floor, my eyes practically black out. Everything is getting too much in this arena. I don't know how much longer I can last, really. The Careers barely let me eat or drink. I feel so weak. The only thing that gets me through each day is not seeing Katniss' face in the sky at the end of the night when the anthem plays.

Katniss is the only thing, the _only_ thing.

The only thing.


	13. Chapter 13

**PART TWO | THE GAMES**

 **CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

* * *

It's evening when I see her. She's lying in the huge lake near the Cornucopia, and she looks injured and drowsy. There's little explanation as to why else she'd be here unless she was hurt. Even the Careers and myself aren't in the best shape after the Capitol sent the fire out, anyway. My heart aches slightly, then it breaks completely when the Careers notice her too. When she notices us all back, she begins to scramble out of the pool, running and splashing and flying back into the woods. She limps slightly, pained.

The Careers close in on her, following her footsteps through the woods, hooting and cheering despite the fact that the smoke from the fire has made our voices slightly raspy and ache-y. Katniss gets up a tree, fast despite her injury. I stand with them as they circle the tree, watching her as she climbs like a squirrel up the trunk. She's around six metres up by the time we're at the base of the tree. My heart is pounding as I look into her eyes. All that I can see is betrayal, and I realise how this must look to her.

Everything inside me breaks.

Katniss smiles. "How's everything with you?" she calls down cheerfully. I suppress a smile. Hearing her voice after these past few days is as glorious as the moment I first heard her sing back when we were so young.

The Careers aren't expecting her sassy retort, but it doesn't take Cato long to recover. "Well enough," he says. "Yourself?"

"It's been a bit warm for my taste," she says. I can imagine the Capitol are loving this back home, lapping it up like thirsty dogs. "The air's better up here. Why don't you come on up?"

"Think I will," Cato says.

"Here, take this, Cato," Glimmer says, offering him the silver bow and sheath of arrows. I watch Katniss for her reaction and see her eyebrows raise almost off her head. I bow my head back down immediately, realising I'm the reason Katniss doesn't have them now. In my mind, I know I distracted her to keep her safe from the bloodbath, but she doesn't know that. She must hate me so much. I begin to polish my small knife with the edge of my shirt just to try not to look at her in the eyes.

"No," Cato says, rejecting Glimmer and pushing away the bow. "I'll do better with my sword."

Cato hoists the tree, and Katniss begins to climb farther up. When she's around nine metres in the air, Cato breaks a branch with his weight when he steps on it and falls down to the ground. He gets up, swearing madly. Glimmer then begins to scale the tree until the branches begin to crack again beneath her before she stops climbing, knowing she doesn't want to fall like Cato did.

Katniss gets to around twenty five metres by the time that Glimmer gets her an arrow into her bow. She shoots at her, but is completely incompetent. The arrow gets lodged into a tree near Katniss, and she reaches out to grab it. She waves it, teasing Glimmer. None of them realise how much this signifies, but I do. She could kill them all with that one arrow if she wanted.

Cato makes us regroup together and all of them growl with ideas of how to get up there and kill her. It takes so long for me to come up with something that may just give her time to wriggle her way out of this without getting injured more, or killed. "Oh, let her stay up there." I say harshly, and loudly. Maybe she'll hear me and realise what I'm trying to do for her. Fat chance, but I can't exactly do anything else. "It's not like she's going anywhere. We'll deal with her in the morning."

Twilight breaks and the sun begins to set. We lay out the sleeping bags from our backpacks and make a fire. No need to worry about fires when you're the Careers, right? They eat, and they give me some of their scraps and a little extra. After all, they believe I've helped get Katniss to them, I guess. Who knows what they're thinking? I can barely think with Katniss above me, strapped to the tree and in risk of death.

My eyes are drawn to her all night long until I slowly fall asleep.


	14. Chapter 14

**PART TWO | THE GAMES**

 **CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

* * *

When I wake, I'm surrounded in tracker jackers. A nest is on the ground, split open, and hundreds upon hundreds are swarming us, stinging us. Each sting is full of a venom that makes me feel woozier and woozier. I drop everything, forgetting all that I have, and run. Behind me I can hear shouts of "To the lake! To the lake!" but I'm not sure which Career is saying it exactly.

I follow their instructions, and we all plummet into the lake. Luckily, I've only been stung a few times and the wooziness hasn't properly set in yet. It's only when everybody is in the lake that I realise Glimmer is missing. How did all of this happen? There were no tracker jacker nests anywhere near us when we set up camp last night, and our fire would have attracted a few if that were the case. Everything happened so quickly that I didn't have a chance to see what happened.

Then it clicks. Katniss. She can run away because we're not there any more. What if she was the one that made the tracker jackers attack us? I can't really think of _how_ , but she's clever enough to do something like that. The Capitol must be loving her right now. I wouldn't be surprised if she was a favourite to win right now.

When quiet descends on us in the lake, Cato speaks up. "That's it. I'm finding that little fire bitch and I'm killing her myself," Cato growls, trying to pull his way out of the pool, but his limbs are twitching and shaking and he falls back in. "Fucking, fucking bitch!" he shouts. I must admit that his determination is superb even if the venom that is coursing through his veins slows down his movements.

I feel the venom in me, too. Green lumps have former from where they've stung me, but I can't hang around here. I need to get to Katniss, tell her to run. It doesn't matter if she's in the tree or not, when Cato is in this mood, he will find a way of killing her, any way at all. I jump up out the lake, my limbs slightly jerking in protest, but my love for Katniss and my drive to keep her safe powers over me. I will not let a few tracker jacker stings kill her.

Running back into the woods, I hear Cato shout but I'm not sure what he says. Everything is going slowly blurry and I'm seeing double. The trees begin to fall around me. They're going to crush me.

 _No, that's just the venom,_ I tell myself. The hallucinations could be beginning, and my stomach writhes in agony and nausea. I tell myself that the trees falling on my head are not real, but I flinch every time they come down. I keep running and running and running, Cato's heavy footsteps following not too far behind. Then, as if from nowhere, the clearing appears.

I see her, Katniss. She stands motionless in the clearing, her pupils wide and dilated, fixed on something she must be hallucinating too. I try to walk over to her, but I'm not sure I can even get there. "What are you still dong here?" I hiss at her, hoping the words will come out of my mouth and reach her ears. I can hear Cato's footsteps banging in my head, _bang, bang, bang_. He's getting closer. He will kill her. My beautiful, lovely Katniss who needs to live and he will kill her. "Are you mad?" I ask. I prod her with the end of a spear shaft, hoping that it'll reach her. I think it does, but I'm not sure. There are three of her now, oozing and falling and mixed with trees and blackness. "Get up! Get up!" Katniss gets up slowly, but I keep pushing at her, trying to shove her away from me. "Run! Run!" I scream.

Cato slashes through the brush. He's badly stung under one eye, but my hallucinations are making him look as though he has eight pairs of eyes. Katniss finally begins to run away, as much as she can run, anyway. Instead of trying to go after her, his glare is focused on me. "Y-you," he slurs. "You traitor!"

"What?" I say. He is loud, but there's a screaming inside my head.

"You've been playing all this t-time," he says. "You were trying to... keep her away from us!" he swings his sword at me, but his aim is terrible. He is losing his grip with reality, I see it in his eyes which are almost all black now.

"I... I-"

"You played us! You played me!" he bellows. "I'll... I'll, I will... Show you!" he wriggles his fingers, getting a better grip on his sword before tackling me to the floor. All I can really see is the trees falling, and triple visions of Cato lying on top of me. His weight crushes my lungs, making it difficult to breathe. He plunges his sword into my upper thigh, not too deep but not shallow in any way. Once he's cut me, he stands above me, tall. In my hallucinations, he's as tall as the trees. "You will die slowly. Painfully," he says. "And so will she."

Then my whole world falls into blackness.


	15. Chapter 15

**PART TWO | THE GAMES**

 **CHAPTER FIFTEEN**

* * *

Nightmares plague my blackout sleep. In them, Cato stabs me over and over again, each time more painful than the last. In them, I see Katniss die in every single way possible, which is more painful than any injury Cato could give me. In them, I see my father and my brothers waste away, the bakery gone. These nightmares pull me in and out of waking, washing over me tsunamis of pain that I can't swim away from. I lay paralysed in the clearing where Cato left me.

When I finally wake, it takes me a long time to fully wake properly. I lie in the mud, dried blood caked on my clothes and a small puddle of the stuff almost completely dried out on the ground. Every movement I take gives a shooting lance of agony down my leg and through my body. I'm scared, so scared. I wonder momentarily if there's any way Haymitch could get a sponsor to give me some medicine to help heal this more quickly, or take the pain away, or just _anything_ until I realise that he'll be sending any sponsor money to Katniss. Besides, who would want to sponsor me?

Maybe when Cato said out loud that I'd just been tricking them, that I'd been protecting Katniss, did any of the Capitol people realise that I wasn't just being a backstabber. But my doubts are all still there because of the way that Katniss' eyes looked at mine when she was up in that tree. Betrayal, hatred, anger. So much hostility from the girl who I'm in love with, and it kills me.

I wonder momentarily why nobody has killed me. I'm not exactly far from the Cornucopia or the lake, the biggest water source in the Games. How long have I been blacked out? Cato has probably told everybody that I'm dying, to let me die slowly. No need to kill me yet, just let me suffer in pain until I finally go. Part of me wishes I could just go now, right now, and end the misery forever. But the other part of me knows I need to try to stay alive for as long as possible. If every decision I make should be in order to keep Katniss alive, as Portia said to me, then I have to choose staying alive. If I'm dead, I can't help her survive in any way. I can't protect her.

But right now, I am most definitely not fit to protect or help her. First, I have to help me.

There's a stiffness in the rest of my body that makes it even more difficult to get up. I cry out in pain when I finally manage to get myself up and put weight down on the leg that Cato stabbed. A foul, rotten taste in my mouth won't go away. I need water. I need food.

I decide I have some sort of immunity from the rest of the Career tributes as Cato will have told them not to bother putting me out of the misery he's set me in. Essentially, this means I could go back to the lake quickly, drink some water and try to keep some in a small bottle that I have in the backpack the Careers gave me to some small essentials in. Obviously, the hallucinations truly deluded him as he didn't take the backpack away from me, increasing my slim chances of survival a tiny little bit.

As I make my way back to the lake to get some fresh water, limping as I go, I think of Katniss and how I practically screamed at her to run from the clearing when Cato was after her. Technically, I saved her life. If I hadn't have gone back, she wouldn't have moved from the clearing and he would have killed her. Surely my saving her life would show her, and the Capitol, that I do love her. That I'm trying to protect her. But I have no idea what's going through her head.

A worry suddenly passes through my own, scaring me. I must've been out for longer than a day, if the cramps in my stomach are anything to go by, and what if she's died in that time? What if Cato went to find her anyway after he stabbed me? Worry shoots through me, my whole body tensing up at the idea. He truly could have gone to kill her, and I wouldn't know.

Once I've filled the water bottle up, and had my own amount of water, I try to get back up and start making my way away from the Cornucopia. I need to get some strength back in my body with food, but I don't really know what I can eat. I'm losing an incredibly amount of weight, and my muscles are slowly beginning to disappear and look much less prominent. Cursing to myself, I realise how unprepared I am for these Games. Three days of training would never be enough for anybody. I don't know anything about killing animals or eating a berry that won't kill me.

My joints are full of stiffness. I can't move too quickly, my body is so weak and I'm still kind of dizzy from all the tracker jacker venom. The spots that they stung are hug and bulbous, sticking out painfully. I know there's some sort of poison in them, and I need to get it out but I don't know how. I don't know anything

As I'm walking, trying to look out for something that I am, I can't help but feel so much anger at how incompetent I actually am in these stupid, deadly Games. I know nothing of survival, and because of that, I'll probably die. Katniss is probably already dead because of how unplanned my thoughts were. What was I doing, rushing in with the Careers? I've done nothing but wreck havoc and hurt people.

I walk all day, drinking little bits from my water bottle and eating some small berries that I know for sure are safe. I see many more berries than just the ones I eat, but we were told only to eat the ones we knew were safe for sure. Still, it doesn't half make the others look tempting. I knew that if I was with Katniss that she could tell me what was okay to eat and what wasn't. I wish she was here now. My body shivers, longing her presence.

I'm beginning to feel incredibly sick by the time night falls on the sky, too dizzy to stand even. I have no choice but to rest here, by this tree, in the middle of nowhere. Maybe I'm too hungry, or maybe Cato's sword is truly beginning to slow painful death he intended it to. Either way, I fall out of conciousness again - but this time, I welcome the blackness that takes over my vision and my world.


	16. Chapter 16

**PART TWO | THE GAMES**

 **CHAPTER SIXTEEN**

* * *

I wake up drenched in sweat, but shivering. The sun is high in the sky, indicating that it's near midday. Despite my foggy brain, I know I need to move. Once again, I don't know how long I've been out of it but I need to move... My luck has been pushed farther than it should have when it comes to fainting in the middle of nowhere and not being killed, and I don't want to take my chances. Today will be the day that I find somewhere I can stay; a hideout or something of the like.

When I go to move, I immediately fall back down again. My heart is beating so rapidly in my chest, my legs so unstable and my brain feels literally as though it has a cloud of fog in it. What's wrong with me? What did Cato do when he stabbed me?

A million scenarios go through my head, frightening images of Cato on top of me again, slicing me with his sword. The more likely scenarios are that Cato maybe put some sort of poison on his sword before he stabbed me, but it's hard to believe this one because I don't think he could have managed to do that when we was all jacked up on tracker jacker venom. The other most likely explanation is that some sort of infection is stepping in. And that's the scenario I don't want. I have seen people in my district come down with infections and it's always painful.

Despite the dizziness, I pull myself up and out of my half-conciousness. I've never experienced something so difficult in my life, but I manage it somehow. I'm half-walking, dragging my injured leg as I limp off further into the woods. I need to find a water source that I can stay by safely. My lack of strength means that the place will have to be safe to stick by for a long time with little trouble of other tributes disturbing me, so it will have to be hidden away.

A hidden away water source. In your dreams, Peeta.

But still, I don't exactly have much choice, even if it's an idyllic kind of situation that I'm sure I'll never be able to find before the infection sets into my wound irreparably. If it hasn't already, that is... My gosh, I'm so pessimistic. I've never been like this in my life. Even in 12, even when my mother hit me, even when Katniss ignored me, I've always tried to stay hopeful. Stay optimistic. And now the Games have changed me, just like I didn't want them to.

They've changed me.

I keep walking. A canon bolts in the sky at some point, but I'm so dizzy that I can't concentrate on the noise or my own worrying thoughts. I feel so warm, but I'm shivering at the same time. I keep trying to find berries that I can eat as I walk through the woods. My brain tries to remember how to find water, things that we learnt at the survival skill stations during training, but I'm so foggy, so I just keep walking and walking and walking...

* * *

Near the end of the afternoon, I find something. I actually find something. The overwhelming joy inside me wipes my brain clean for a moment, I forget about my fever, I stop shaking and I even let out a small whoop. If I wasn't so dehydrated I would probably cry.

It's a rocky, jagged area that looks like a small mountain to my infection-addled brain. I climb alongside it until I've reached the other side of it, a nice little hideaway in the rocks. I feel blood dripping down my leg, the wound re-opening at my physical exertion on the injured leg. It's not good, but I keep going, pushing myself to the ultimate limits. I find a dip in the rocks and a small trickle of water leaks out from it. From the small trickle descends a huge, spouting river that flows down the rocks, hidden between them.

Despite the lack of water in my body, I truly do start to cry now. This is what I need. What I wanted. And it's so beautiful, here, too. Even in the middle of the Games there is a beautiful spot. High up, trees surrounding, sun shining and blue sky beaming. Beautiful... So, so... beautiful.

In the distance, I hear a huge explosion. Massive. From my spot standing on the rocks, I can see a billow of smoke rise above the trees and float into the air. I have no idea what caused the explosion, but a canon follows a few minutes afterwards.

There isn't much I can do about anything going on, so I sit down in a shallow part of the river, drink some of the water and just lay. Let it wash my wound out for me. I'm too weak to move, the shivers, fever and a dreaded nauseous feeling sinking into my stomach. The infection is getting worse, I think to myself, but the thought drowns away along with my conciousness once more.


	17. Chapter 17

**PART TWO | THE GAMES**

 **CHAPTER SEVENTEEN**

* * *

When I wake, it's just before dawn. My entire body crippling in pain and I feel vulnerable.

I try to sip on some water from the river, and I fill my water bottle up too in case I have to flee from here. Truthfully, I'm not sure I could even physically flee if I tried, but I have to prepare. I have to _believe_ , or else that's just another thing they've taken away from me. I eat some green plants that I know are safe, but not exactly nutritious. My appetite is non-existent, and the green plants aren't helping that, but I know my body needs food. Even still, it's hard to keep it down, so I just drink water until I feel bloated and huge with the amount of liquid inside of me.

My body wants to fall back into the crutches of sleep, but I force it to stay awake. I move around a little, but my blood soaked clothes have hardened and become stiff to move in. I could wash them in this river, sure, but I don't exactly know how to get the strength or the courage to do so. Even the smallest tasks right now feel like mountainous ones.

Morning passes in a daydream of Katniss, dreaming of her, hoping she's still alive. The sun reaches it's highest point in the sky before drooping again. My eyelids grow heavy, and I'm just about to fall back in a nightmare-fuelled sleep when a canon goes off in the distance. I shiver, but unsure if it's caused by my scared fear or if it's just the infection sending chills up my spine. I feel intensely more vulnerable than I did when I woke up, and I know I need to try to conceal myself in a better way than I am now. Right now, I'm just lying in a river, the back of my clothes soaked through with water, the front with blood.

Sitting up, I look around me. Where's there's water, there could be mud. Slowly, as slow as anything, I try to pick my body up and half-limp, half-crawl around the rocks to find some mud, or moss, or anything I can use to camouflage myself. Camouflage was one of my best skills back in the survival skill section of training. It could save me.

Then it kind of hits me. What am I even trying to save myself for, anyway? It's a basic human instinct, to want to survive. But what good is it doing now? Each canon means less people, and if I don't die soon then it could just end up being Katniss and I in this arena. Obviously, I would die for her, without a doubt... But I know that she's not as hateful as she seems, and killing me would be traumatising. Even if she does think I'm betrayer, it's awful when people in the same district kill each other. It's just... not done. It does happen, I mean, we are in the Games after all - but when tributes can avoid it, they do.

I may as well die now, really.

Another canon goes off. It's almost like fate, as if the Gamemakers are saying _yes, die!_

What is going on out there, in the depths of the forest? Two deaths within minutes of each other. My heart hurts so much that it may be Katniss, but I won't find out. I'll never know, truly. That fact hurts me more than anything. I've been dipping in and out of conciousness for recaps every night. Her face could have shone in the sky nights ago and I never would have grieved. That thought makes me feel disgusted in myself.

Even with my slight wish to just die already, I keep trying to find something to camouflage things with. If I'm going to die anyway, which I probably will due to the infection in my leg, but I want to die at least having done something I love.

To me, the act of camouflaging yourself is almost like painting. It's an art.

I collect a small plethora of things and take them back to a muddy, mossy spot near a water spot that I can drink from when I need to. This takes me such a long time that evening is nearly breaking by the time I'm done collecting items. I survey the area around me, looking at what I've got to try to work out how I'm going to do this. I mix a few things together, making new and beautiful colours. Even though fever, nausea and pain are lancing through my body, I find a steady rhythm and become relaxed.

When I'm painted, I blend in incredibly well with the rock and the moss around me. I can drink steadily from the river without much movement. In fact, thole get up prohibits a lot of my movement, so I am forced to look up at the evening sky and watch as the sun disappears and the sky turns into an inky indigo.


	18. Chapter 18

**PART TWO | THE GAMES**

 **CHAPTER EIGHTEEN**

* * *

I fall in and out of nightmares that seem relentless. A day passes. I eat nothing, my appetite isn't here. I drink some, but even that feels difficult. I want a reason to live, I want to see Katniss. I want to know that she's alive.

Sleep pulls me in and out, shaking and shivering. I wake again near when the sky is turning dark. The anthem plays, but there have been no deaths today. All of a sudden, the sky blares to life with the sound of trumpets, and I realise that the Games must be becoming uneventful slightly, as trumpets only really mean one thing - Gamemakers intervention. Occasionally, they change some things or make an event happen for the morning that will bring tributes in and the murders up.

Claudius Templesmith, the Games announcer, booms out all around me. It's so strange, hearing another humans voice. How long has it been? It brings some life back into my body, even if it just an annoying Capitol persons' voice. He gives his congratulations to the six of us who remain. This reels me. _Six!_ Who could be left? Glimmer died, yes, I remember seeing her stiff and lifeless body on the clearing floor, stung with tracker jackers. But if the other three Careers are alive, then that's half of them already... Maybe one of them died, but I can't imagine it. Maybe Katniss killed one.

Maybe Katniss is dead. Maybe she didn't make it to the top six.

My thoughts are interrupted by the rest of Claudius' announcement. He explains that there has been a rule change, declaring that if both tributes from the same district are alive by the end of the Games, then they will be declared the winners. He repeats himself, clarifying, but I understand immediately. If Katniss is alive, that means we could win together. We could both go home.

But I'm dying already. I don't even know if she's alive still. Maybe I'm not even alive still.

My brain feels so so confused. But my lips speak out groggily, "Katniss," before I fall out of conciousness again.


	19. Chapter 19

**PART THREE | THE VICTOR**

 **CHAPTER NINETEEN**

* * *

My night is restless. I wake periodically, thinking that maybe Katniss will appear. Just as midday ticks over, I am solidly awake, waiting. I keep thinking to myself that she must be alive. What other point would there be to the rule change? We're the star-crossed lovers, and this rule change could give the Capitol something to really route for and spice the Games up a bit.

When the suns move from the highest point in the sky, my hope dwindles slightly. Then, in the distance I hear a hissing sound calling my name. "Peeta! Peeta!" it says. A mockingjay picks up the sound of the voice, relaying the tune out toward the trees.

"Katniss?" I say, my throat cracking. I drink some water, a gallon of the stuff and say her name again, this time louder and clearer. "Katniss?" A foot breaks in the water. It must be her. I take a leap of faith. "You here to finish me off, sweetheart?" I joke.

That's when I see her. She whips around to the left, her eyes wandering over me and through me. The camouflage, of course. She can't see me. "Peeta?" she whispers. "Where are you?" she asks, almost on top of me now as she walks along the bank. "Peeta?"

Her foot almost plants on my face. "Well, don't step on me." I say.

She jumps back, realising that she was right understand me. I open my eyes, looking into her and it makes her gasp. I can't help but let out a little laugh. I'm not sure what it is about her presence, but I feel so much better already. Maybe my body is fighting the infection off, I think hopefully. But truthfully, I know it's just Katniss. Seeing her brown braid, her grey eyes. She's so thin, battered and bruised that it breaks me. I can barely imagine what I must look like to her now, too.

"Close your eyes again," she orders, obviously fascinated. She kneels down, investigating my camouflage. "I guess all those hours decorating cakes paid off."

I smile. She fills me with so much warmth; real warmth and not just fever-addled warmth. "Yes, frosting. The final defence of the dying."

"You're not going to die," she says firmly.

I resist the urge to laugh. My brain immediately says _yes I am,_ but instead I say "Says who?"

She almost looks pained at my pain. I can't help but let it fuel me. What else have I got to live for anyway? I live off everything she does, every movement, every word. She's all I have right now, in these Games where I am dying. Where they are changing me. "Says me. We're on the same team now, you know," she tells me.

"So I heard. Nice of you to find what's left of me."

She makes me drink some water from her bottle. It's so much fresher and cleaner than the stuff in the lake, even if it is slightly lukewarm. "Did Cato cut you?" she asks.

"Left leg. Up high," I answer, remembering it all too vividly. I look back up to her, and the immediate adrenaline I got from seeing her is slowly wearing off, being beaten down by the infection. My brain gets confused and foggy once more, and I feel sick. So, so sick. It's only just hitting me that it's killing me, it's really killing me.

"Let's get you in the stream, wash you off so I can see what kind of wounds you've got," she says.

"Lean down a minute first, need to tell you something." I say. My brain must be full of confusion that leaves me dissociating, but in the end I feel like I haven't got any reason to hold back any more. Every minute with her could be my last, so when she leans her ear down to my lips I say, "Remember, we're madly in love, so it's all right to kiss me any time you feel like it."

She jerks back, but laughs hard. It fills me with life again. I wish I could make her laugh all the time. Her nose wrinkles, her mouth widens and spreads and fills her whole face, her teeth show slightly and her shoulders shake. All such beautiful things for such a beautiful laugh. I smile at her. "Thanks, I'll keep it in mind." she replies.

Katniss wants to take me down to the deeper bit of the stream to wash me off, but I'm so weak that I can barely move a centimetre on my own. She tries to drag me, and I do my best to just let her do what she wants with me. We need to work as a team, and I can't drag her down in this because I still want her to win so badly. Still, it doesn't mean that I can't help but let out sharp cries of pain and tearing up slightly. I'm in so much pain that I want to scream, I want to end it all right now, but I know I can't. I just can't.

"Look, Peeta, I'm going to roll you into the stream. It's very shallow here, OK?" she says.

"Excellent," I say, gritting my teeth.

She crouches beside me. I can see plainly on her face that she doesn't want to do this, doesn't want to hurt me. "On three," she says, preparing me. "One, two, three!" She can only manage to roll me once because it hurts me so much that I'm practically growling and sobbing, making something that can only be described as a mixture of the two words. Grobbing. Srowling. Who knows?

"OK, change of plans." Katniss says, looking at me. "I'm not going to put you all the way in."

"No more rolling?" I ask, my voice raspy with pain.

"That's all done. let's get you cleaned up. Keep an eye on the woods for me, OK?" she says, worried that someone may have heard my cries and will be coming to get us. Katniss begins to get to work with me then while I keep most of my attention on the woods. It's difficult, however, between the beautiful woman trying to undress me and the infection that's slowly rotting my body. Difficult indeed.

Katniss props two bottles against rocks in the stream so they keep refilling and washes me over with them, switching each time. She's get rid of the mud from my jacket, unbuttoning my shirt and washing them in the stream. Cutting away my under-shirt, she drenches my skin and washes me. I'm badly bruised and there's a burn across my chest along with four big stings from the tracker jackers. I had no idea that I was so badly beaten up; all I could focus on was Cato's wound.

She manages to prop me up against a boulder before getting to work on my upper-half. I sit, uncomplaining, just watching her really. I should be watching the woods, but she's intoxicating. She works hard, her tongue sticking out of her mouth as she digs the stingers from my tracker jacker lumps and applying some sort of leaves to them that drags out their poison. Leaving me be for a little bit, she washes my clothes and then leaves them to dry out in the sun. We don't say much between us. I want to savour these precious moments while I'm still alive. I want to savour her precious being, her looking after me. It's too perfect. It's a shame about the circumstances, but beggars can't be choosers.

She applies some burn cream to my chest and checks my temperature, realising how warm I am. The fever is breaking through like mad, even though I'm covered in cold sweats. She digs through this first aid kit, making me realising how well she did getting that backpack. "Swallow these," she says, pulling out some pills. I take the medicine without objection. "You must be hungry."

"Not really. It's funny, I haven't been hungry for days," I say. Katniss digs in her bag again, getting out some odd looking meat. I wrinkle my nose at the smell, feeling so sick that I feel as though I could actually vomit right now.

"Peeta, we need to get some food in you," she insists.

"It'll just come right back up," I say, thinking about how much I could easily vomit right now even though there's nothing in my stomach. I'm getting so tired that it's hard to stay awake as she forces bits of dried apple in my mouth. "Thanks. I'm much better, really. Can I sleep now, Katniss?" I ask, even though I'm sure I'll probably lose conciousness soon enough anyway, too weak to stay awake.

"Soon," she promises. "I need to look at your leg first." She gently removes my boots, then my socks and slowly inches her way up my trousers. If I wasn't almost dying, I would probably be enjoying this. The tear that Cato's sword made has ripped the fabric in my thigh, but when Katniss takes the material off, neither of us are prepared for what is underneath. The deep gash is oozing pus and blood. The flesh smells dead and festering. I watch Katniss' face carefully; she looks just as nauseous as me.

"Pretty awful, huh?" I say lightly.

"So-so." she shrugs, as if it's no big deal and not killing me slowly. "You should see some of the people they bring my mother from the mines. First thing is to clean it well." She pours water over the wound, but it doesn't look any better. She treats a few more tracker jacker stings on my legs and a small burn with the opaque ointment she has, but she looks confusedly at Cato's cut. "Why don't we give it some air and then..."

"And then you'll patch it up?" I ask. I can see how lost she looks, and I feel for her. I really do. She's going to have to watch me die. The Capitol will watch as one of the star-crossed lovers die, and oh, oh they'll be so sad.

"That's right," Katniss says anyway. "In the meantime, you eat these." She shoves a few dry pear halves in my hand and goes back to washing my clothes in the stream. They're kind of stained, but she keeps trying before eventually leaving them out to dry in the sun. After a little while and an investigation of her first aid bag, she says, "We're going to have to experiment some."

Starting with the tracker jacker leaves, she draws out some infection. Pus begins to run down the side of my leg.

I notice that she's starting to turn slightly green. "Katniss?" I say, trying to distract her. "How about that kiss?" I mouth the words. She laughs that intoxicating, sunshine laugh again. "Something wrong?" I say innocently.

"I... I'm no good at this. I'm not my mother. I've no idea what I'm doing and I hate pus," she admits. "Euh!" she cries out as she tries to rinse the leaves off. "Euuuh!"

"How do you hunt?" I ask, perplexed.

"Trust me. Killing things is much easier than this," she says. "Although for all I know, I am killing you."

"Can you speed it up a little?" I ask, only half-joking.

"No." she says firmly. "Shut up and eat your pears," she continues, nodding to the pears in my head before starting to get more pus out. The wound looks slightly better by the time she's given up with the leaves and it's much less swollen. The cut from Cato though looks deeper than ever. Right down to the bone.

"What next, Dr Everdeen?" I ask.

"Maybe I'll put some burn ointment on it. I think it helps with infection anyway. And wrap it up?" she says, beginning to do those things. After she wraps the bandage over the wound, my under-shorts look dirty and ragged. It's clear that they have to be washed, but Katniss seems uncomfortable with the idea. "Here,, cover yourself with this and I'll wash your shorts." she suggests.

"Oh, I don't care if you see me," I say.

"You're just like the rest of my family," she says, exasperated. "I care, all right?" she turns her back and looks to the stream until I somehow manage to wriggle off my under-shorts and splash them into the current. I feel a lot better than before, more stronger and it's so pleasant feeling more myself than anything - I'm even starting to feel more optimistic. Maybe Haymitch will be able to get a sponsor to help heal the cut up. Maybe.

"You know, you're kind of squeamish for such a lethal person," I say while she tries to clean the under-shorts. Dirty water comes out into the stream, washing away. "I wish I'd let you give Haymitch a shower after all."

She wrinkles her nose. It's cute. "What's he sent you so far?"

"Not a thing," I say, pausing. "Why, did you get something?"

She appears a bit shy. "Burn medicine," she says. "Oh, and some bread."

"I always knew you were his favourite," I say, but secretly I know that he was doing it to help her survive rather than me like I asked him to. It was our plan. Still, it kind of sucks that I was lying here literally dying but he was off giving her bread.

Katniss sniffs. "Please, he can't stand being in the same room as me," she says.

"Because you're just alike," I mutter. She ignores me and continues to wash my shorts off. I fall asleep quickly and hard.

* * *

I wake to a gentle shaking on my shoulder. "Peeta, we've got to go now."

It's Katniss. She wants me to move, but I feel almost incapable of doing so. I'm confused, too. I've been hiding here days and everything has been fine, I guess. "Go? Go where?" I ask.

"Away from here. Downstream, maybe. Somewhere we can hide you until you're stronger," she says. I can't argue, and my head is feeling incredibly foggy, so I let her try to dress me. When I put weight on my weight, I feel like I'm going to scream in pain, but I keep it all in and feel the blood drain from my face and the sickness set in. "Come on. You can do this." Katniss encourages me.

But I can't. Not for that long, anyway. We make it some parts downstream before I feel as though I'm about to black out again, and we don't that. She sits me down on the bank, pushing my head between my knees and patting my back. Getting the nauseous feeling out of me is all I care about. I'm panting, desperate to vomit but trying to keep it all in so that my body can have some sort of food inside of me. My skin is paper white and shivering despite the fever. I can't help but feel awful again, back to pessimism and thinking that everything we did this afternoon was all a waste. I'm dying. I am dying.

Somehow, she half-carries, half-drags me over to some small little cave. It's not very good, but I'm an awful ally and I can't move much more. I feel myself dipping in and out of conciousness. Katniss tucks me into a sleeping bag and shoves a couple more pills and water into me, but I can't bear to face any more food. Then, I just lay there, weak, dying and just looking at her. I watch as she uses some vines to cover the opening of the cave to give us some sort of minor veil of protection. All of a sudden, Katniss tears it down in frustration.

"Katniss," I say, stopping her. She comes over to me straight away, brushing the hair back from my eyes. I can't help but think she cares, really, truly cares. "Thanks for finding me."

"You would have found me if you could," she says. It's true. She places a hand on my forehead, getting my temperature. It's hot, that's all I can say.

"Yes. Look, if I don't make it back-" I begin.

"Don't talk like that. I didn't drain all that pus for nothing," she says.

"I know." I say. "But just in case I don't-"

"No, Peeta, I don't even want to discuss it," she says, putting a finger to my lips to keep me quiet.

"But I-" I insist.

Then, she leans forward and kisses me. Her lips are so much cooler than mine, which is all I can really focus on in the moment, but once she's off me, I feel so much inside my chest. I want to be better. I want her to kiss me again. I want everything, and I want her. "You're not going to die. I forbid it. All right?"

"All right," I whisper.

Katniss steps out. I'm not sure if she's embarrassed or anything. I lose conciousness again, the fever and infection taking over. I'm awoken again when she kisses me on the lips, but I'm too confused to take any of the feelings in, but I smile anyway, and gaze up at her. I'd be happy to lie here, kissing and looking at her forever. She holds up a silver little pot. A parachute, I realise, from a sponsor. "Peeta, look what Haymitch has sent you."


	20. Chapter 20

**PART THREE | THE VICTOR**

 **CHAPTER TWENTY**

* * *

Katniss manages to get the broth in me with a mixture of coaxing, begging, threatening and kissing. I like the last one the most, even if they're full of fever and deliriousness on my end. Finally, I finish the pot of broth and fall to sleep, dreaming of kisses. Occasionally, Katniss wakes me by putting a cool, damp towel on my head and refreshing my bandages.

* * *

When I wake, Katniss isn't there. I feel sweat all over myself, but the fever seems to have broken through the night. Part of me can't believe that squeamish girl who could barely look at my leg has made me so much better already. I let my mind grow hopeful for a few minutes before beginning to worry greatly about Katniss' whereabouts.

I struggle to get up when Katniss finally returns. "I woke up and you were gone," I say. "I was worried about you."

She laughs as she tries to ease me back down. "You were worried about me? Have you taken a look at yourself lately?" she says. I can't believe she's worried about me. I'm full of a warmth in my chest that spreads through me.

"I thought Cato and Clove might have found you," I say, still trying to be serious despite the love that's aching in my fingertips now, dying to touch her. "They like to hunt at night," I continue.

"Clove? Which one is that?" Katniss asks.

"The girl from District 2. She's still alive, right?" I ask, realising I have no idea who is even left in these Games any more.

"Yes, there's just them and us and Thresh and Foxface," Katniss tells me. "That's what I nicknamed the girl from 5. How do you feel?"

"Better than yesterday. This is an enormous improvement over the mud," I tell her. "Clean clothes and medicine and a sleeping bag... and you."

She touches my cheek lightly. I can't help but melt into her touch, into her grey sparkling eyes. I press her hand against my lips, warmth spreading through me even deeper. I love her. If I die right now, that will be okay. I decide that for sure that I'm happy with that. "No more kisses for you until you've eaten," she says.

Propping up on a wall in the cave, I begin to swallow mouthfuls of a strange mush of berries that Katniss concocted for me while I was out of it. I refuse the odd meat again, the smell of it making me feel sick again. I don't want the sickness to come back, but food doesn't help at all. Part of me is wondering if I'll ever be hungry again, to be honest. "You didn't sleep," I say to Katniss.

"I'm all right," she says, but her face doesn't look it. I see bags reflected under her eyes, her posture slipping.

"Sleep now. I'll keep watch. I'll wake you if anything happens," I say, but she hesitates. "Katniss, you can't stay up for ever."

It takes her a few minutes but eventually she agrees to go to sleep. "All right," she says. "But just for a few hours. Then you wake me." She lies on the floor, one hand on her bow in case she has to wake up in a moments notice.

"Go to sleep," I say softly, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. I stroke her hair until she falls asleep, peaceful and beautiful. Her face is so much softer within the crutches of sleep, dreaming and flickering her eyes occasionally. I can barely take my own eyes away from her, intoxicated by her love. When she wakes, it's late afternoon. I know I should have woken her up sooner, that she'll be mad I let her sleep for so long, but I couldn't help it and she needed the sleep so she could be alert.

She sits up next to me. "Peeta, you were supposed to wake me after a couple of hours," she says.

"For what? Nothing's going on here," I say. "Besides, I like watching you sleep. You don't scowl. Improves your looks a lot." This brings a scowl onto her face almost immediately, bringing a smile to mine. All I want is to lean over and kiss her, but I'm weak and unconfident. Katniss then decides I'm not drinking enough and makes me take a handful of the fever pills with a whole two litres of water. She then goes back to tending my minor wounds, like the burns and the stings. They look much better, but my leg, on the other hand, does not.

Katniss' face drops when she sees my leg. "Well, there's more swelling, but the pus is gone," she says unsteadily.

"I know what blood poisoning is, Katniss," I say, finally admitting it. I haven't been able to for so long. I knew that blood poisoning would kill me. That that kind of medication would be unattainable, even with all the sponsors we may have. Blood poisoning. That's how I was dying. "Even if my mother isn't a healer."

"You're just going to have to outlast the others, Peeta. They'll cure it back at the Capitol when we win," I say.

I know that I won't make it that long. Even if they all died today, I probably would die still. The poisoning is too far along; I'm a ticking death bomb. "Yes, that's a good plan," I say anyway, trying to bring some old Peeta optimism into the air. It fails miserably, though.

"You have to eat. Keep your strength up. I'm going to make you soup," Katniss says.

"Don't light a fire," I say. "It's not worth it."

"We'll see," she says before disappearing out the cave.

I feel miserable as soon as she leaves. The sickness is back, my drowsiness too. All of the symptoms of blood poisoning, really. I wait for a while before she comes back, stretched across the sleeping bag in the shade. The sight of her brings a little bit of life back into me, but the sickness is setting so deeply that even her presence isn't enough.

"Do you want anything?" Katniss asks.

"No," I say. "Thank you. Wait, yes. Tell me a story."

"A story? What about?" Katniss asks.

"Something happy. Tell me about the happiest day you remember," I instruct.

"Did I ever tell you about how I got Prim's goat?" she asks, as if we've ever spoken about Prim or a goat in my life. She avoids the subject of Prim normally, especially back when we were being fake nice to each other in training. I shake my head in response. She spins me a story, a magical story that she gets very into, about how she went into the market selling her mothers silver locket to get some money. She then went into the market and saw the Goat Man, surrounded by lots of little goats. One was white with black patches, lying down in a cart looking sick. It was then, looking at this sick goat, that she decided Prim would be the one who could help bring this goat back to life. She got an excellent deal for it with some help from people in the market. A goat is a good way of food and money in District 12, so it took around half an hour to come up with a good deal, though. She carried the poor goat back home and she'd never seen Prim happier. She was so excited, crying and laughing all at once. And her mother and Primrose saved the goats life.

"They sound like you," I say.

"Oh, no, Peeta. They work magic. That thing couldn't have died if it tried," she says, before realising the comparison of me and the goat that I'm making in my head, and hers, too.

"Don't worry. I'm not trying," I joke. _Not now you're here, anyway_ , I think to myself. "Finish the story."

"Well, that's it. Only I remember that night, Prim insisted on sleeping with Lady on a blanket next to the fire. And just before they drifted off, the goat licked her cheek, like it giving a goodnight kiss or something," Katniss says, her eyes glazing over with the memories. "It was already mad about her."

"Was it still wearing the pink ribbon?" I ask.

"I'm just trying to get a picture," I say, conjuring a wonderful image in my minds eyes of Katniss by the firelight, watching her sister sleeping next to a goat with hope. A smile on her face, the fire glowing with embers floating around the room thoughtfully. "i can see why that day made you happy."

"Well, I knew that goat would be a little gold mine," she says.

"Yes, of course I was referring to that, not the lasting joy you gave your sister you love so much you took her place in the reaping," I say drily.

"The goat _has_ paid for itself. Several times over," she says in a superior tone.

"Well, it wouldn't dare do anything else after you saved it's life," I say. "I intend to do the same thing."

"Really? What did yo cost me again?" Katniss asks.

"A lot of trouble. Don't worry. You'll get it all back," I say.

I'm feeling slightly delirious, and I think she can tell. "You're not making sense," she says before testing my temperature by placing a hand on my forehead. My fever is getting higher, and the cold sweats are coming back in a hell-bent force. "You're a little cooler, though."

All of a sudden, the trumpets blare, cutting our conversation off. She's on her feet in a flash, hunched over at the mouth of the save. Claudius Templesmiths' voice booms out, inviting us to a feast to lure tributes in to kill each other. But this time, it's different. The feast isn't for food. "Now hold on. Some of you may already be declining my invitation. But this is no ordinary feast. Each of you needs something desperately." The medicine for my leg. The medicine to keep me alive. The medicine that will mean Katniss and I win the Games. The medicine that brings us both back home, alive. "Each of you will find that something in a backpack, marked with your District number, at the Cornucopia at dawn. Think hard about refusing to show up. For some of you, this will be your last chance," Claudius says before his voice and the trumpets fade away into nothingness.

I grab Katniss' shoulder just as she's about to get up. "No," I say. "You're not risking your life for me."

"Who said I was?" she asks.

"So you're not going?" I say, unconvinced.

"Of course I'm not going. Give me some credit. Do you think I'm running straight into some free-for-all against Cato and Clove and Thresh? Don't be stupid," she says, putting me back to blood poisoning is confusing my brain and making everything feel swishy. The words she says barely feel like they make any sense in my head. But one thing in my head is for sure: she isn't telling the truth. "I'll let them fight it out. We'll see who's in the sky tomorrow night and work out a plan from there." she continues.

"You're such a bad liar, Katniss. I don't know how you've survived this long." I say. " _I knew that goat would be a little gold mine. You're a little cooler, though. Of course I'm not going._ " I mimic her. "Never gamble at cards. You'll lose your last coin," I say, aware that I'm not making a huge amount of sense.

Anger flushes her face. "All right, I am going, and you can't stop me!"

"I can follow you. At least partway. I may not make it the Cornucopia, but if I'm yelling your name, I bet someone can find me. And then I'll be dead for sure," I say.

"You won't get a hundred metres from here on that leg," she says.

"Then I'll drag myself. You go and I'm going, too." I say. Sure, I'm being stubborn, but she could die. These feasts are like the bloodbaths at the start of the Games, part two. I am not losing her because she wants to help me. If we both die, what's the use of anything?

"What am I supposed to do? Sit here and watch you die?" she says.

She's just as stubborn as me, but I know if it was the other way around I wouldn't ever pass up this chance. I don't really know what else I can do. "I won't die. I promise. If you promise not to go," I say weakly, as if I can control such matters.

Katniss goes along with it. We're at a stalemate. "Then you have to do what I say. Drink your water, wake me when I tell you, and eat every bite of the soup, no matter how disgusting it is!" she snaps.

"Agreed." I say meekly. "Is it ready?"

"Wait here," she says. And I do. I wait.

Part of me wants to believe her offer. That if I do everything she says, then she won't go. Maybe if I do everything she says, I'll survive anyway.

I don't know. I don't know anything.

When she returns, she's holding a little metal cup of food. It's some mashed-up berry concoction with a few sprigs of mint leaves on top and mashed in. "I've brought you a treat." she says, offering the food. "I found a new patch of berries a little further downstream."

I begin to eat without hesitation, just like she told me to. I swallow some, and frown. "They're very sweet." I point out.

"Yes, they're sugar berries. My mother makes jam from them. Haven't you ever had them before?" she says, poking another spoonful in my mouth. I eat it with no reluctance even though the sweet tartness is making me want to vomit them back up. My fever is high, I'm shivering, but if I just can eat these berries then maybe she'll truly stay here. Maybe she won't leave me.

"No," I say, puzzled. "But they taste familiar. Sugar berries?"

"Well, you can't get them in the market much, they only grow wild," she says, spooning me another mouthful.

"They're sweet as syrup," I say. Then it clicks. "Syrup." My eyes widen. She's drugging me. There are no sugar berries. They don't exist. She's played me, she's tricking me. She's going to leave me. I try to make myself vomit them up, but its futile. The drugs are already taking over, and I'm losing conciousness.

Everything goes black. The last thing I see is the pain in Katniss' eyes.


	21. Chapter 21

**PART THREE | THE VICTOR**

 **CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE**

* * *

I see her. I see her dying. Exploding, her body ripping into millions of unfathomable pieces.

I see myself. I see me crying. Broken, my being falling apart all around me as I scream into the nightfall.

* * *

There... there she is again. Floating, her body motionless and still. Her eyes flickering and empty. She's screaming for help. She just wanted to save me.

There... there I am again. Grounded, my body writhing and agonising. My eyes bleeding and oozing. I'm silent with heartbreak. I just wanted to save her.

* * *

I wake in a sweat, but she's already gone. There's no use trying to do anything I said I would if she went. The sun is higher in the sky, meaning dawn has passed. She should be coming back soon, if she's still alive, that is.

Numbness spreads through me at my own helplessness, at the shock of the nightmares that raged my drug-addled sleep.

I hear a canon go off, and I feel panic rising so fast within me that I can't stop it. There are endless waves of it, and I can't breathe. Maybe I'm having a panic attack, but I don't know. All I know is that I'm panicking, hard. I'm falling through endless chasms of my own despair and all I can do is hope, hope for dear life that Katniss is alive.

 _Katniss... please, please be alive..._

The illness takes me back into sleep again.

* * *

She bursts into the cave, blood pouring from her head. My vision is full of black spots. I feel death coming. It's really coming, now. But so is she. Or maybe it's just another dream.

Either way, I can slightly see a blurry version of her bursting into the cave, bloody and scared. She plunges a needle into my arm and I cry out in pain. Something tells me that in dreams, you don't feel pain. But I find it hard to believe, and the blackness is beginning to take me over again. The needle gets plunged deeper and deeper in my arm, blackening my vision more and before.

When she's done doing whatever she does, she collapses, and so do I.


	22. Chapter 22

**PART THREE | THE VICTOR**

 **CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO**

* * *

The next time I wake, I'm actually surprised. I thought I was dead. But here I am, and I feel better. Better than I have in weeks. I am still sick, feverish and pale... but something has changed. Katniss is lying motionless on the ground, but her face is twitching as if she's having some sort of nightmare. I decide to try to let her sleep, knowing that whatever happened at the feast would've put an incredible strain on her. Instead of waking her, I bandage her head up, smooth her hair and kiss her forehead.

* * *

The next morning, I reach over to her, shaking her slightly. "Katniss," I say, desperation lining my voice. "Katniss, can you hear me?"

Her eyes flicker in recognition of my voice. "Peeta."

My heart expands in my chest, my breath catching in my throat. "Hey," I choke, relived. "Good to see your eyes again."

"How long have I been out?" she says sleepily.

"Not sure. I woke up yesterday evening and you were lying next to me in a very scary pool of blood," I tell her. "I think it's stopped finally, but I wouldn't sit up or anything."

Gingerly, she lifts a hand to her newly bandaged head but she gets dizzy quickly. I pass her water over, tipping it to her lips and helping her drink. "You're better," she says, rasping.

"Much better. Whatever you shot into my arm did the trick," I say. "By this morning, almost all the swelling in my leg was gone."

"Did you eat?" she asks.

I feel a little guilty. "I'm sorry to say I gobbled down three pieces of that groosling before I realised it might have to last a while. Don't worry, I'm back on a strict diet," I say.

"No, it's good." she says, but I still feel bad there isn't much left for her to eat. "You need to eat. I'll go hunting soon," she continues.

"Not too soon, all right?" I say, worried. "You just let me take care of you for a while." I feed her what is left of the groosling, give her a handful of raisins and lots and lots of water. There's something comforting knowing that she's going to be okay, but that I can still take care of her. She took care of me for so long, I felt like a burden. Now I'm returning her favour, and I couldn't be more pleased to do so. My heart swells three sizes, and I feel a warm, golden glow inside. Love. I rub some warmth back into her feet. "Your boots and socks are still damp and the weather's not helping much." I tell her as I wrap her feet up in my jacket to keep them warm. Rain is dripping from the cave walls and the ceiling. "I wonder what brought on this storm? I mean, who's the target?" I ask.

"Cato and Thresh," she says. "Foxface will be in her den somewhere, and Clove... she cut me and then..."

"I know Clove's dead. I saw it in the sky last night," I say. "Did you kill her?"

"No. Thresh broke her skull with a rock," she says distantly.

"Lucky he didn't catch you, too," I say, even though the word lucky doesn't cover it.

Katniss looks slightly sick. "He did. But he let me go." she says, explaining everything to me. About the explosion. About killing Marvel. About Rue dying. About singing to her, covering her in flowers and crying for days in mourning. All of it leads to Thresh, how he felt like he owed her something because of her alliance with Rue and didn't kill her. As she talks, I barely believe any of it. How could I not have known any of this? My arms ache to reach out to her, to protect her from harm, to comfort her from all the pain she's had to live through.

"He let you go because he didn't want to owe you anything?" I say, confirming.

"Yes. I don't expect you to understand it. You've always had enough. But if you'd lived in the Seam, I wouldn't have to explain," she says.

I understand that's upset from telling me everything, but it feels like a low blow. I can't help where I was born in 12. "And don't try. Obviously I'm too dim to get it," I say, stubbornness pinching at my voice.

"It's like the bread. How I never seem to get over owing you for that," she says unexpectedly.

"The bread? What? From when we were kids?" I say. "I think we can let that go. I mean, you just brought me back from the dead."

"But you didn't know me. We had never even spoken. Besides, it's the first gift that's always the hardest to pay back. I wouldn't even have been here to do it if you hadn't helped me then," she says. "Why did you, anyway?"

"Why? You know why," I say, but she shakes her head which makes me sigh. "Haymitch said you would take a lot of convincing."

"Haymitch?" she asks. "What's he got to do with it?"

"Nothing," I say, shaking my head. "So, Cato and Thresh, huh?" I try to change the subject. "I guess it's too much to hope that they'll simultaneously destroy each other?"

"I think we would like Thresh. I think he'd be our friend back in District 12," she says softly.

"Then let's hope Cato kills him, so we don't have to," I say grimly. All of a sudden, though, Katniss begins to start crying gently, which makes me feel awful. I sit up slightly, looking concerned. "What is it? Are you in a lot of pain?"

Her voice is small, weak and vulnerable. "I want to go home, Peeta," she says.

"You will. I promise," I say. Before I can hold myself back, I give her a small kiss.

"I want to go home now," she says afterwards.

"Tell you what. You go back to sleep and dream of home. And you'll be there for real before you know it," I say. "OK?"

"OK," she whispers back. "Wake me if you need me to keep watch."

"I'm good and rested, thanks to you and Haymitch. Besides, who knows how long this will last?" I ask.

Before she can answer, she falls asleep. Her eyes close slowly, and I can tell that she's following what I said. Dreaming of home. I can't help but think of home too as I sit next to her asleep, stroking her singular braid carefully. The storm gets worse and worse outside, rain raging and turning into a downpour. There are streams of water beginning to fall though the ceiling by the time that evening falls, and I decide to wake Katniss up. We work together trying to deflect the weather, putting some plastic to make sure it doesn't get to us and soak us through to the bone.

We're both incredibly hungry after we set up some bad weather protection, but there is barely any food left. Just two pieces of groosling, a small handful of roots and dried fruit. "Shall we try and ration it?" I offer.

"No, let's just finish it. The groosling's getting old anyway, and the last thing we need is to get sick off spoiled food," she says. I shrug, knowing she's right. We split the food into two equal portions. I try to eat mine slowly, savouring each bit and enjoying the fact that my appetite has come back with a storm. Even though I try to be slow with my food, I can't help but gobble it down because I'm so famished. When I'm finished, my stomach wants more and more and more. I look over to Katniss and see that she has done the same as me. "Tomorrow's a hunting day," she says.

"I won't be much help with that," I say. "I've never hunted before.

"I kill and you cook," she says. "And you can always gather."

"I wish there was some sort of bread bush out there," I say wistfully. I miss baking more than anything back home, truly.

"The bread they sent me from District 11 was still warm," Katniss says, sighing. "Here, chew these." she says, offering me a couple of mint leaves. We pop them in our mouths and chew on them. The anthem plays in the sky, but there were no deaths today. "Where did Thresh go? I mean what's on the far side of the circle?" Katniss asks.

"A field. As far as you can see it's full of grasses as high as my shoulders. I don't know, maybe some of them are grain. There are patches of different colours. But no paths," I say, remembering the way they looked when I stood on the small mountain near my stream.

"I bet some of them are grain. I bet Thresh knows which ones, too," Katniss says. "Did you go in there?"

"No. Nobody really wanted to track Thresh down in that grass. It has a sinister feeling to it. Every time I look at that field, all I can think of are hidden things. Snakes, and rabid animals, and quicksand," I say. "There could be anything in there."

Katniss looks away into the distant, out of the cave. I wish I could wriggle my way into her head and see what she is thinking. "Maybe there is a bread bush in that field," she says, joking. "Maybe that's why Thresh looks better fed now than when we started the Games."

"Either that or he's got very generous sponsors," I say. "I wonder what we'd have to do to get Haymitch to send us some bread." I think wistfully of bread, imagining flour and yeast and water. The ovens back home. The smell of it cooking, the way it rises. I would do anything for one of my fathers famous cheese rolls right now.

"Well, he probably used up a lot of resources helping me to knock you out," she says mischievously.

Her grin intoxicates me with warmth and love. "Yeah, about that," I say, my fingers sneaking their way over to hers and intertwining with them. Her hand is so warm as it squeezes on my fingers back. "Don't try something like that again." I warn.

"Or what?" she asks. God, I love her.

"Or... or..." I say, unable to think of anything. "Just give me a minute."

"What's the problem?" she says, grinning.

"The problem is we're both still alive. Which only reinforces the idea in your mind that you did the right thing," I say.

"I did do the right thing," Katniss says, but it tips me over.

"No! Just don't, Katniss!" I say, my grip tightening in my hand, real anger in my throat. "Don't die for me. You won't be doing me any favours. All right?"

I loosen my grip slightly, hoping that she's seen my point. I went into the Games to keep her alive and so far all I've done is put that goal in jeopardy. But not now - she has to know that she cant just throw her life around for me. Even if we're from the same District. Even if... even if she likes me. Maybe, just a little bit.

"Maybe I did it for myself, Peeta, did you ever think of that?" she says. "Maybe you aren't the only one who... who worries about... what it would be like if..." she trails off, crumbling, but I know what she is thinking.

"If what, Katniss?" I say softly. Even if my head is telling me that she likes me, she actually likes me too, I want to hear it from her. I want to hear her say that she likes me. I can't even explain how it would make me feel.

"That's exactly the kind of topic Haymitch told me to steer clear of," she says.

"Then I'll just have to fill in the blanks myself," I say, moving in toward her. This is the first kiss that hasn't been ruined by fever, sickness or deliriousness. My chest stirs, a warmth spreading through my body and into my fingertips. I can't help but want more kisses, even though we're still kissing and it's impossible. I never want this moment to stop. When it does stop, I feel so much love radiating throughout me. I kiss her nose lightly before noticing that her head doesn't look in the best shape. "I think your wound is bleeding again. Come on, lie down, it's bedtime anyway," I say.

Katniss puts her socks and back on, and she makes me take my jacket back which I'm slightly thankful for because it's freezing out here with the rain and the damp. We both get into the sleeping bag to share heat, and I can't help but wonder if the Gamemakers have made it cold on purpose that we will have to hold each other to stay warm. Still, I take advantage of the opportunity, pulling her head down on my arm so that she has some sort of pillow. I rest my other arm over her protectively as I close my eyes, trying to fall into sleep.

* * *

After around three or four hours, Katniss wakes me saying that she needs to sleep and asks if I can keep watch. I don't mind at all because I remember how beautiful she is when she is in sleep.

"Tomorrow, when it's dry, I'll find us a place so high in the trees we can both sleep in peace," she mumbles before she drifts off, tucked into the crevice of my arm. Her chest falls and rises slowly and I can't help but match the pattern of her breathing.

* * *

By morning, the weather is no better. I consider heading out anyway to scavenge for food, but Katniss say it would just be pointless. I know that she's right, that I'll just end up soaked and freezing and unable to warm up, but the cramping feeling in my stomach tells me how starving hungry I am.

Evening eventually comes, with the day dragging by slowly. It's hard not to just go out anyway, but there's no break in the weather that would give us any opportunity. Haymitch is really our only hope right now. Even if he sent us just a small something to keep us going before the rain stops and we can hunt for ourselves. Katniss mostly sit and huddle in the sleeping bag to keep warm, but I am secretly enjoying holding on her and having her hold me back. _Katniss is holding me back! She's kissing me back!_ My brain says in rejoice.

At some point, Katniss' voice raises me out of my stupor. "Peeta," she says lightly. "You said at the interview you'd had a crush on me for ever. When did you for ever start?"

"Oh, let's see. I guess the first day of school. We were five. You had on a red plaid dress and your hair... it was in two braid instead of one. My father pointed you out when we were waiting to line up," I say. I feel a little choked up, a lump forming in my throat. I've never told anyone this story. Sure, I've told Madge and Delly of my lifelong crush on Katniss Everdeen, but never this story. Never how it began.

"Your father? Why?" she asks.

"He said 'See that little girl? I wanted to marry her mother, but she ran off with a coal miner,'" I say, a little smile reaching my face.

"What? You're making that up!" Katniss exclaims.

"No, true story," I protest. "And I said 'A coal miner? Why did she want a coal miner if she could've had you?' And he said 'Because when he sings... even the birds stop to listen.'"

"That's true. They do. I mean, they did," she says, slightly distant. I can tell she's moved in a way, maybe because of me or the mention of her father, but either way I fall in love with her a little bit more. I didn't even know that was possible.

"So that day, in music assembly, the teacher asked who knew the valley song. Your hand shot right up in the air. She stood you up on a stool and had you sing it for us. And I swear, every bird outside the windows fell silent," I say. My voice gets just as distant as Katniss' previously.

"Oh, please," she says, laughing.

"No, it happened. And right when your song ended, I knew - just like your mother - I was a goner," I admit. "Then for the next eleven years, I tried to work up the nerve to talk to you."

"Without success," Katniss adds.

"Without success. So, in a way, my name being drawn in the reaping was a real piece of luck," I say. It's true, really... None of this would have happened without the reaping. I'm not exactly thankful for this experience, but I am thankful for what's come out of it.

Katniss looks foolishly happy and I match her mood. "You have a... remarkable memory," she says haltingly.

"I remember everything about you," I say, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "You're the one who wasn't paying attention."

"I am now," she says.

"Well, I don't have much competition here," I say.

She swallows hard. "You don't have much competition anywhere." and she leans in, but our lips barely touch before a clunk outside makes us both jump. Katniss gets an arrow from her quiver, placing it ready in her bow, but it's a parachute outside instead of a tribute. We rip it open and inside is a feast: bread rolls, goats cheese, apples and a bowl of lamb stew on wild rice. My mouth begins salivating at the hearty smell that fills the cave.

I wriggle back inside the cave, my face beaming brightly. "I guess Haymitch finally got tired of watching us starve."

"I guess so," she answers.


	23. Chapter 23

**PART THREE | THE VICTOR**

 **CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE**

* * *

Katniss looks as though she's about to vacuum all the food up, but I stop her. "We better take it slow on that stew. Remember the first night on the train? The rich food made me sick and I wasn't even starving then." I say to her.

"You're right. And I could just inhale the whole thing!" she says, but she doesn't and in the end are quite sensible with the food overall for two starving kids. We each have a bread roll, which almost makes my eyes roll back into my head it tastes so good. We also have half an apple and a really small sized serving of the rice and stew. "I want more." she says.

"Me, too. Tell you what. We wait an hour; if it stays down, then we get another serving," I offer.

"Agreed," she says. After just a minute, she breaks our silence. "It's going to be a long hour."

I laugh slightly. "Maybe not that long," I say. "What was that you were saying just before the food arrived? Something about me... no competition... best thing that's ever happened to you..." I joke, raising a small eyebrow.

She makes a small bit of room for me in the sleeping bag, and I slip in with her. The heat is instant, her body curving into mine as if they've been familiar to each other for years. Her head sits on my shoulder, my arms wrapped around her. I wish I could stay in this moment forever. "So, since we were five, you never even noticed any other girls?" she asks.

"No, I noticed just about every girl, but none of them made a lasting impression but you," I tell her.

"I'm sure that would thrill your parents, you liking a girl from the Seam," she says, and my mind flashes back to my mother; the night I threw the bread and the way she called Katniss a pig, a beggar, a scavenger.

"Hardly. But I couldn't care less. Anyway, if we make it back, you won't be a girl from the Seam, you'll be a girl from the Victor's Village," I say, thinking back to the house we get given if we win. It's in a small little village, the houses gold and fine. Only one is occupied currently, by Haymitch. The rest are untouched.

"But then, our only neighbour will be Haymitch!" Katniss protests.

"Ah, that'll be nice," I say, tightening my arms around her. I wish I could hold her forever, protect her from everything. "You and me and Haymitch. Very cosy. Picnics, birthdays, long winter nights around the fire retelling old Hunger Games tales."

"I told you, he hates me!" she says, laughing.

"Only sometimes. When he's sober, I've never heard him say one negative thing about you," I say.

"He's never sober!"

"That's right. Who am I thinking of? Oh, I know. It's Cinna who likes you. But that's mainly because you didn't try to run when he set you on fire," I say. "On the other hand, Haymitch... well, if I were you, I'd avoid Haymitch completely. He hates you."

"I thought you said I was his favourite," she says.

"He hates me more," I point out. "I don't think people in general are his sort of thing."

I can feel the audience watching us right now, listening to our conversations and falling in love with our love. I wonder if we're the favourites to win because of love. Our District back home must be going mad; it's been years and years since anyone in 12 has gotten this close to winning. Maybe they'll even have two victors this year. I really can't help but hope, truly hope that we could win. We could both survive. Never in any of my years did I imagine this could happen.

Katniss suddenly breaks our silence. "How do you think he did it?" she asks.

I'm confused, my brows furrowing. "Who? Did what?"

"Haymitch. How do you think he won the Games?" she says.

I consider this in my mind, tossing it over and over. Haymitch is sturdily built, and probably was in better fitness when he was younger. He isn't particularly handsome, so he obviously didn't get votes in that way. And he's so bitter that I can't imagine him teaming up with anyone really. There's only way he could have won. "He outsmarted the others," I say.

Katniss nods, letting the conversation drop as we both mull it over in our minds. After being here, living in these Games, I understand why Haymitch has become so surly, why he uses alcohol to cope. I'm not saying I would do it myself, but I can understand. I even feel a little empathetic for him and whatever he may have gone through to get here today.

"There won't be anything to see tonight," Katniss says in a far away voice. "Nothing's happened or we would've heard a canon."

But then I see it. Thresh's face in the sky. I remember blankly how emotional she got talking of debts and Thresh and Rue, and I don't know how to break it to her. "Katniss," I say quietly.

"What? Should we split another roll, too?" she says.

"Katniss," I repeat, but she seems to want to ignore me.

"I'm going to split one. But I'll save the cheese for tomorrow," she says. I stare at her, trying to wonder what she's doing and why she is avoiding looking at me. Eventually, she looks back to my stare. "What?" she asks.

"Thresh is dead," I say.

Immediately, she rejects it. "He can't be," she says.

I'm just as perplexed as she is, but I try to come up with some reasoning. "They must have fired the cannon during the thunder and we missed it," I say.

"Are you sure? I mean, it's pouring buckets out there. I don't know how you can see anything," she says. She pushes me away, refusing to believe me. I feel powerless against her, weak and tired. She looks into the night sky where a distorted vision of Thresh's face sits in the sky for a few more seconds before disappearing into the blackness. He's gone.

Katniss slumps down to the rocks, forgetting everything around her. "You all right?" I ask, even though the question is redundant. Of course she isn't.

"It's just... if we didn't win... I wanted Thresh to. Because he let me go. And because of Rue." she says in a small voice.

"Yeah, I know," I say. I want to say something optimistic, but I find it hard and my words fall flat on my face. "But this means we're one step closer to District 12." When I realise she isn't going to reply, I nudge a plate of the stew into her hands. "Eat. It's still warm."

She takes a bite of the stew, but I can tell from her mashed up face that she has no appetite, even for the stew that she loves so much. "It also means Cato will be hunting for us." she says.

"And he's got supplies again," I say, worried.

"He'll be wounded, I bet," she replies, almost trying to ease my fears of facing Cato again.

"What makes you think that?" I ask.

"Because Thresh would have never gone done without a fight. He's so strong, I mean, he was. And they were in his territory," she says.

"Good," I say. "The more wounded Cato is the better. I wonder how Foxface is making out." I still can't believe she's alive in these Games. District 5 never normally get this far either. I bet she thinks that she could really win, as well. Even with Cato in the arena, she's clever. I bet she's already planning on trying to trip Katniss and I up in a situation where we're faced with Cato where we all kill each other so that she just wins automatically.

"Oh, she's fine," Katniss says passively. "Probably be easier to catch Cato than her."

"Maybe they'll catch each other and we can just go home," I say, wistfully wishing I could make a plan to do that for real. "But we better be extra careful about the watches. I dozed off a few times."

"Me too," she admits, which eases my guilt slightly. "But not tonight."

We finish our food in silence, the mood that settles over us grisly and sad. I take the first watch, letting her burrow down in the sleeping bag next to me. She pulls her food over her face, not letting me see the emotions that cross over her but I understand, really. She needs time. Thresh died and she just wants to mourn in privacy. It's difficult being in the Games, where cameras are trained on you from the get-go. There is no privacy, no moments to yourself. They even watch you pee.

Katniss falls asleep, and I can't help but eat a bit more food. The blood poisoning took my appetite away, but the medicine has given it back with a force, as if my stomach is demanding all the food it missed when I neglected to feed it. I watch Katniss sleep for a bit and I listen to the rhythmic drumming of the rain on the cave rooftop. After a while, I get Katniss a fair portion of food equal to that I ate and wake her up. I hold the food out. "Don't be mad," I say. "I had to eat again. Here's your half."

"Oh, good," Katniss says, grabbing the food off me and tucking into it straight away. "Mm." she says as she bites into the fatty cheese and the sweet, crunchy apples.

"We make a goat's cheese and apple tart at the bakery," I say.

"Bet that's expensive," Katniss snorts.

"Too expensive for my family to eat. Unless it's gone very stale. Of course, practically everything we eat is stale," I say, pulling the sleeping bag up around me. It takes no time for me to fall asleep listening to the soothing sound of the rain.

* * *

When I wake, Katniss is shaking my shoulder. The rain has stopped, sunlight fills the cave. It's a small miracle, so I pull her down and give her a long, warm kiss that fills me with something akin to fire in my stomach.

"We're wasting hunting time," Katniss says when we finally break away from each others lips.

"I wouldn't call it wasting," I say, stretching the sleep out of my bones. "So do we hunt on empty stomachs to give us an edge?" Just as I ask the question, my stomach growls in protest. Why am I so damn hungry?

"Not us," she says. "We stuff ourselves to give us staying power."

"Count me in," I say, but even I'm surprised when she piles a huge load of stew onto my plate. It seems like too much when we should be rationing food, just in case.

Katniss notes my surprise. "We'll earn it back today," is all she says, scraping mouthfuls and mouthfuls of the cold stew into her. She begins to pick the last dabs of gravy and sauce with her finger. "I can feel Effie Trinket shuddering at my manners."

"Hey, Effie, watch this!" I say, tossing my fork over my shoulder and licking the plate clean with my tongue. I make a lot of yummy noises in the back of my throat as I do so, imaging her practically gagging. I blow a kiss out to her. "We miss you, Effie!"

Katniss covers my mouth with her hand, but lets out a hearty laugh. "Stop! Cato could be right outside the cave."

I grab her hand away. "What do I care? I've got you to protect me now," I say, pulling her onto me, but she pulls away.

"Come on," she says. I manage to give her one last kiss before she makes me get up and start hunting with her.

We begin our way out of the cave, getting out weapons ready in our hands just in case. "He'll be hunting us by now," I say. "Cato isn't one to wait for his prey to wander by."

"If he's wounded-" Katniss begins before I cut her off.

"It won't matter," I say. "If he can move, he's coming."

We walk past the stream, which has overflown with the severe amount of rain. We stop to replenish our water supplies and having a quick drink ourselves while we can. Katniss checks a couple of snares she set a few days ago, but they're empty which she says isn't surprising with the weather. "If we want food, we better head back up to my old hunting grounds," she says after we traipse around and find no sign of game.

"Your call. Just tell me what you need me to do," I tell her.

"Keep an eye out," she instructs. "Stay on the rocks as much as possible no sense in leaving him tracks to follow. And listen for both of us."

We walk and it's now that I realise we aren't exactly very strong. Katniss still keeps getting headaches from the cut Clove gave her on her head, and even though my infection has completely gone, my leg is still weak and can't bear barely any weight on it at all. As we head up along the stream, we pass my old place where I lay camouflaged in the weeds and the mud. Getting further and further down the stream, the rocks that were so mountainous turn more into pebbles and we reach lower ground. Navigating the rocky terrain with my bad leg is difficult and I can't help but stomp my feet and make little noises of pain sometimes, which means Katniss keeps scowling at me. "What?" I ask.

"You've got to move more quietly," she says. "Forget about Cato, you're chasing off every rabbit in a fifteen-kilometre radius."

"Really?" I say. "Sorry, I didn't know."

So, we start again and I try really hard to be light with my feet and avoid anything that could make a big noise but it doesn't seem to be good enough. "Can you take your boots off?" Katniss suggests.

"Here?" I say in disbelief.

"Yes," she says patiently, but I can tell she's getting a little miffed off. "I will, too. That way we'll both be quieter." I humph. Like she's making any noise, anyway. She's trying to spare my feelings, I can tell. I appreciate it but it feels a little odd.

It takes hours for us to reach where Katniss used to camp when she was allied with Rue and we've found nothing. I realise that it's me probably not helping this situation. "Katniss," I say, interrupting our hunt. "We need to split up. I know I'm chasing away game."

"Only because your leg hurts," she offers, but I know that I'm no good really. My leg is just a small part of the problem. I can practically see her making a comparison with Gale in her mind. They hunt together, back in 12, and I feel like she secretly wishes she could be hunting with him now. I try to keep the hurt off my face, even though it's soaking my bones.

"I know," I say. "So, why don't you go on? Show me some plants to gather and that way we'll both be useful."

"Not if Cato comes and kills you." she says.

I laugh. "Look, I can handle Cato." I say, even though it feels like a lie. "I fought him before, didn't I?"

She is quiet for a minute, observing me. "What if you climbed up in a tree and acted as a lookout while I hunted?" she says.

"What if you show me what's edible around here and go get us some meat?" I say, mimicking her tone. "Just don't go far, in case you need help."

She sighs, but shows me some roots that I can dig up anyway and sets us up a little whistle signal to communicate before going off into the distance to hunt. I watch as she walks away, sheath of arrows strapped to her back. She's so strong and independent that I can't help but just admire her as she walks off. I set a small plastic sheath on the ground, walking around in the woods to find some berries and roots. I collect a blueberry looking thing that I'm not exactly sure what it is, but I think it's safe, and I'll ask Katniss anyway when she gets back before I eat any.

Leaving the sheath of berries behind, I walk off to dig up some roots like she instructed me, but I hear a voice calling in the woods, echoing the trees. Mockingjays pick up on the tone and match it. "Peeta!" it calls out. "Peeta!"

"Katniss?" I whisper to myself, panic running through me. I run through a bushel, toward the voice, and then she bumps straight into me.

"What are you doing?" she shouts angrily. "You're supposed to be here, not running around in the woods!"

"I found some berries down by the stream," I say, confused.

"I whistled. Why didn't you whistle back?" she snaps back at me.

"I didn't hear. The water's too loud, I guess," I say. I reach over, putting my hands on her shoulders. She's shaking.

"I thought Cato killed you!" she shouts.

"No, I'm fine." I say, wrapping my arms around her and pulling her in for a hug because she's trembling so much. "Katniss?"

She pushes me away. "If two people agree on a signal, they stay in range. Because if one of them doesn't answer, they're in trouble, all right?"

"All right!" I say.

"All right. Because that's what happened with Rue, and I watched her die!" she shouts, turning away from me. She goes into her backpack left on the floor near us while we were talking and gets out a bottle of water. She begins to root through it noisily. "And you ate without me!" she adds on, mad.

"What? No, I didn't," I protest, confused as anything.

"Oh, and I suppose the apples ate the cheese," she snaps.

I'm beginning to lose my patience slightly, so I take a deep breath and speak slowly. "I don't know what ate the cheese," I say. "But it wasn't me. I've been down by the stream collecting berries. Would you care for some?"

She seems a little tempted by the offer, and looks down toward the plastic sheath. She pauses.

Just then, a cannon fires. Katniss whips back around, her eyes wide and scared. A hovercraft appears around a hundred of so metres away, and we watch together as Foxface's body gets lifted from the ground and into the air. Her red hair glints in the sunshine.

If Cato just killed Foxface, our location and safety are comprised, so I grab Katniss' arm in panic. "Climb. He'll be here in a second. We'll stand a better chance fighting him from above." I say.

"No, Peeta, she's your kill, not Cato's," she says calmly.

"What? I haven't even seen her since the first day," I protest. "How could I have killed her?"

In answer, she holds out the berries, and it clicks. Foxface ate the cheese. Foxface ate the berries.

The berries were poisonous.


	24. Chapter 24

**PART THREE | THE VICTOR**

 **CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR**

* * *

It takes a little while for me to fully understand exactly what happened with Foxface and the berries. The poisonous nightlock berries that I picked from the trees, thinking I could just set them down and ask for Katniss' approval on them. But they ended up being stolen by Foxface who died. Not as clever with berries as everybody thought, then, I guess.

"I wonder how she found us," I ponder aloud. "My fault, I guess, if I'm as loud as you say."

"And she's very clever, Peeta. Well, she was. Until you outfoxed her." Katniss says.

"Not on purpose. Doesn't seem fair somehow. I mean, we would have both been dead, too, if you she hadn't eaten the berries." I say, but then I pause, remembering the situation. "No, of course, we wouldn't. You recognised them, didn't you?"

Katniss nods confidentially. "We call them nightlock."

"Even the name sounds deadly," I say, a small shudder running through me. "I'm sorry, Katniss. I really thought they were the same you'd gathered."

"Don't apologise. It just means we're one step closer to home, right?" she asks.

"I'll get rid of the rest," I offer, gathering the plastic sheath and getting ready to toss them into the woods.

Katniss' cry stops me. "Wait!" She pulls out a leather pouch and fills it with the berries. "If they fooled Foxface, maybe they can fool Cato as well. If he;s chasing up or something, we can act like we accidentally drop the pouch and if he eats them-"

"Then hello, District 12," I say, a smile broadening my face at the thought of home.

"That's it," she says, securing the pouch to her belt.

"He'll know where we are now," I say. I can't help but picture Cato, his sword in his hand, lurking into the woods like a tiger. Something inside me flashes, and a rage of panic and anxiety go through me. I don't want to see him again. "If he was anywhere nearby and saw that hovercraft, he'll know we killed her and come after us." I continue.

Katniss knows I'm right, but instead of starting to flee with me, she says, "Let's make a fire. Right now."

She begins to collect some branches and green brush. "Are you ready to face him?" I ask, worried. I know I'm sure not. Still, there's only three people left now in these Games. With the new ruling, Katniss and I are essentially just one person; so the Games have reached their finale now.

"I'm ready to eat. Better to cook food while we have the chance. If he knows we're here, he knows. But he also knows there's two of us and probably assumes we were hunting Foxface. That means you've recovered. And the fire means we're not hiding, we're inviting him here. Would you show up?" she asks.

I'm surprised by how well her mind works, how easily she has grasped these Games. I've watched them all my life (it's mandatory to watch, anyway) but I could never have conjured all that up in my mind. "Maybe not," I answer her, but I know that compared to the ruthless killer Cato, I'm a coward.

I begin to build up the fire, coaxing a blaze out of the damp wood easily after remembering the skills we learnt a few weeks ago. _Weeks... was it really that long?_ I wonder to myself. _How much time has passed in this arena_? We both keep a watch for Cato as we gather greens and prepare the food. When we're finished cooking, we pack most the food up to ration it but we both chew on a rabbit's leg.

Katniss decides she wants to move higher up into the woods and climb a tree to get some sleep for night, but I resist. "I can't climb like you, Katniss, especially with my leg, and I don't think I could ever fall asleep fifteen metres above the ground." I say.

"It's not safe to stay in the open, Peeta," she argues.

"Can't we go back to the cave?" I ask. "It's near water and easy to defend."

Katniss sighs, turning the thought over in her mind like a coin. Eventually, she reaches up and kisses me. "Sure. Let's go back to the cave."

"Well, that was easy." I say, pleased and slightly relieved.

Before we leave, we toss more wood onto the fire so that it smokes up for a couple more hours and leads Cato away. We walk for a long while before we reach the stream, where the water has calmed down considerably since the intense weather; so we decide to walk in the water.

It's a long, long walk and we are both exhausted. Even with the days hunting, we're both still starving hungry. I can tell that Katniss is skinnier than ever, having lost so much weight in the few weeks we've been here and I know for sure that it's the same for me.

By the time we finally reach the stream, we're both dragging our aching feet. Evening is beginning to dwell as we fill up our water bottles and find our way to the cave. When we get back into the cave, I can barely keep my eyelids open. As Katniss begins to prepare dinner for us, I almost fall asleep halfway through. After so many days of inactivity, sitting in the cave, just getting better, this day has truly taken everything out of me.

Katniss makes me go to sleep, setting away the other half of my meal for when I wake up. She pulls the sleeping bag up to my chin and kisses me on the forehead. It's a simple act, so full of love that it fills me a new type of energy. I fall asleep, dreaming of kisses.

* * *

When I wake to Katniss shaking my shoulder, the whole night has gone by and the grey sunlight is filtering through the mouth of the cave. "I slept the whole night. That's not fair, Katniss, you should have woken me." I say.

She stretches down into the sleeping bag. "I'll sleep now. Wake me if anything interesting happens."

Nothing does, and it's mid-afternoon when she naturally wakes up. I know that the people in the Capitol will be starting to get bored. The air is charged with heat and electricity. Something is going to happen soon...

"Any sign of our friend?" Katniss asks when she's shaken the sleep from her brain.

I shake my head. "No, he's keeping a disturbingly low profile."

"How long do you think we'll have before the Gamemakers drive us together?" she asks. She must be able to feel it in the air, too.

"Well, Foxface died almost a day ago, so there's been plenty of time for the audience to place bets and get bored. I guess it could happen at any moment," I say to her.

"Yeah, I have a feeling today's the day," Katniss says. "I wonder how they'll do it."

It makes my stomach crunch in nerves. I don't want it to be... I want more days with Katniss, in our cave with the sun raining down on us as we kiss and hold each other all day long. But this run up with Cato has been building for days. As soon as I knew that my blood poisoning was okay when Katniss gave me the medication, I knew I'd have to face him again.

Katniss interrupts my thoughts. "Well,until they do, no sense in wasting a hunting day. But we should probably eat as much as we can hold just in case we run into trouble," she says.

As I pack up the gear, Katniss lays out a large meal of rabbit, roots, greens and rolls spread with the last bit of cheese we have left. She leaves the squirrel meat and what is left of the apple for later. If we get a later, that is. My hands are greasy when we're done with the food, my stomach so full that it leaves me groggy. When we actually leave the cave, something feels odd and sad. There's a sense of finality about it. This will be the last time we come back to this cave. The last day spent in this arena. Katniss gives the rocks a little pat goodbye before we wash up near the stream. But, when we reach the stream, it's bone dry. This factor only confirms that this will be the last day we are here.

"Not even a little damp. They must have drained it while we slept," Katniss says.

I curse in my mind. What're we to do for water? The sunlight is beating down heavily on our backs, the warmth spreading through my skin and coming out in a light sheen of sweat. We will both need water, and even though our water bottles are fairly full, it won't last long in this heat. "The lake," I say, everything clicking into place. "That's where they want us to go."

"Maybe the ponds still have some," Katniss says hopefully, her train of thought obviously following my own.

"We can check," I say, but I know that it's just false hope. When we finally get to the lake after hiking there, it's just as dry as the stream, confirming my theory.

"You're right. They're driving us to the lake," Katniss says. "Do you want to go straight away or wait until the water's tapped out?"

"Let's go now, while we've had food and rest. Let's just go and end this thing," I say. We'll either be ending our lives or the Games. A week ago, I would have gladly accepted the end of my life while I was laying with an infection riddled leg, unable to eat or stay concious for longer than a couple hours. But now I'm ready to go with a fight.

I wrap my arms around Katniss. Who knows, it could be one of the last times I ever get to. "Two against one. Should be a piece of cake," I say.

"Next time we eat, it will be in the Capitol," she says.

"You bet it will," I say, smiling at her optimism. We stand for a little while, just holding each other, aware it could be the last time we ever really get a chance to. The moment is beautiful: the sunshine is lying on us, warming us; the trees and leaves are rustling quietly; the mockingjays are singing in the distance. When we let go, we say nothing, letting our unspoken words lay between us.

We rest for a few minutes under a tree that holds memories for us both: the one that Katniss was stuck in when I was allied with the Careers as they trapped her there. The hulk of the tracker jacker nest is empty and messed up from the rain. Katniss touches it with the tip of her boot, and her eyes become glazed over with the memories of everything holds here. I can't help but pulled into the memories too as they flash before me.

Katniss' voice drags me from the nightmares flashing before my eyes. "Let's move on," she says. I don't object. By the time we reach the lake, there's no sign of Cato and it's early evening. The sky is darkening, but the golden glint of the Cornucopia still shines. We cross over to the lake and fill our water bottles. "We don't want to fight him after dark. There's only one pair of glasses." Katniss says, referring to the night vision glasses.

"Maybe that's what he's waiting for. What do you want to do? Go back to the cave?" I suggest, feeling a wave of anxiety crest over me. I don't know how I'm going face Cato again.

"Either that or find a tree. But let's give him another half an hour or so. Then we'll take cover," she answers.

We sit by the lake, not bothering to hide because there's little point. The only noise that passes in the plains is the sound of the mockingjay song, twittering back and forth in a beautiful melody that reminds me of Katniss' singing and the story I told her about my father being in love with her mother, who was in love with the way her father sang. "Just like your father," I say.

Katniss' fingers find the pin on her jacket. "That's Rue's song," she tells me, meaning the mockingjays' melody. "I think they remember it." She looks into the distance, wistfully and full of remembrance. For half a second, she lets herself close her eyes and be driven back in time. A sweet, warm breeze pushes past, whipping her face. She's practically glowing with beauty.

Then, something begins to interrupt their music as they rise up in a shrieking cry of alarm. We're on our feet in a flash, me holding my knife and Katniss poised to shoot. Cato smashes through the trees and bares down on us. Surprisingly, he has no spear - his hands are empty. He runs straight toward us, full force. Katniss pulls an arrow from her bow, but it hits his chest and falls straight down, making no impact whatsoever.

"He's got some kind of body armour!" Katniss shouts to me.

Cato is upon us, but instead of getting us, he runs straight past us, panting and breathing hard. My eyes look toward what he's running from, or to, but I can't see anything. Squinting into the darkness, a creature leaps out at both Katniss and I onto the plains.

We both run in the same direction of Cato, trying to get away from the creatures that are now are new enemy.


	25. Chapter 25

**PART THREE | THE VICTOR**

 **CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE**

* * *

Muttations.

No doubt about it. They're mutts. They're as big as wolves but are similar stature to some sort of dog. They stand on their hind legs, with bulging muscles popping out of its skin. I can see them at a distance so most their features are blurry, dark messes to me right now and to be honest, I'm not really sure I want to see them up close.

Cato runs to the Cornucopia. Katniss follows him. I follow her, but my leg is too weak to run on properly; despite the fact that infection is gone, my leg still has a cut in it that's incredibly deep and makes it too hard to walk, let alone run. I'm trying as hard as I can, putting as much weight as I can bear on the leg, but the mutts are gaining fast on me and there's little else I can but keep trying and hope I make it to the Cornucopia before they make it to me.

Katniss' hands reach the metal at the pointed tail of the Cornucopia before she turns around to look for me and notices that I'm far behind, hobbling and being gained on. Adrenaline runs through me more and more, but it isn't enough to break through the pain in my leg to make me run any faster. Katniss sends an arrow to one of the mutts, killing it. I try to wave her, indicating she needs to get up the horn and leave me. I'm not going to make it. "Go, Katniss! Go!" I shout.

She listens and starts climbing, and I'm slightly relieved because it means that even if the mutts catch me, she could still win this. She could still live. I keep trying though, keep running and running and running. There's so much pain in me, but I can't give up. Not now. Not that I'm so close.

Finally, I reach the tail of the Cornucopia and begin to climb, but the mutts are right on my heel and nipping at me with their teeth. I yell out in pain, both of their bites but also of my leg as I stretch and bend it to get myself up the golden horn.

"Climb!" Katniss yells as she shoots the throat of one of the mutts that is trying to climb alongside me. It dies, spasming and gashing some of the other mutts beside it. Their claws are razor-sharp and longer than one of my own fingers. They leave rough, deep claw marks on the golden metal of the Cornucopia.

I reach Katniss' feet and she grabs my arm, pulling me up onto the Cornucopia. My eyes are watering from the intense pain in my leg that shoots up me. Cato then shouts, "Can they climb it?" before he goes into a huge coughing fit, blood coming from his mouth. He is doubled over with cramps of pain. Somehow, he's just as beat us as me, really. _Good_ , I think cruelly, shocking myself.

"What?" Katniss shouts at him.

"He said, 'Can they climb it?'" I answer her.

The mutts begin to assemble at the base of the horn, raising up to stand on their back legs, freaking me out completely. They sniff the horn with their snouts, scraping their claws and paws over the surface and making high-pitched barking noises. As if communicating, they assemble themselves, making room for a blonde shaggy one to take a running jump up to the horn. It lands below us, just scraping its landing on the horn, allowing me to get a good look at it. It's canine for sure, but the eyes are unmistakeably human and it sends shivers through my spine.

Katniss shrieks beside me. Despite her shaking aim, she hits the creature straight in the throat. It's body twitches and falls to the ground. Her eyes are wide and wild. "Katniss?" I say, gripping her arm.

"It's her!" she screams.

"Who?" I ask, confused as I watch her snap her head from side to side as she watches the muttations. "What is it Katniss?" I say again, shaking her shoulder.

"It's them. It's all of them. The others. Rue and Foxface and... all of the other tributes," she chokes out, almost crying.

I scan the mutts, taking in their differences. It doesn't take long for me to see it. Rue's dark bushy hair and her almond eyes. Cato's short black hair and her ruthless eyes. All of the mutts have a collar on with their number, their District, I realise. I gasp in recognition. "What did they do to them?" I say in shock. "You don't think... those could be their real eyes?"

Katniss can barely speak, her eyes switching between all of them unbearably. The mutts begin a new assault on the horn as we're taking them in. They use their powerful legs to launch at us. A pair of teeth bite out, almost catching Katniss, but then they catch me. I cry out in pain as the teeth sink in, trying to drag me off the Cornucopia and pull Katniss with me. If it wasn't for my grip on her arm, I'd be on the ground and being ripped apart by all of them.

"Kill it, Peeta! Kill it!" Katniss is shouting, making me remember the knife that's just been sitting glued in my hand. I stick it in the creature, over and over and over, trying to avoid seeing which tribute it is. I don't think I could kill it if I knew. It finally relents and dies, falling off me so that Katniss is able to pull me back onto the Cornucopia horn.

It's the first time we're able to really face Cato now that we're on top of the roof. He hasn't regained his feet, but he is regaining energy in his breathing. He'll be recovered soon enough. I try to get my breath back too while all we an do is wait for him to as well. Katniss arms her bow again, but she takes out another mutt who gets to the side. Just as she does, Cato gets me.

He grabs me, jerking me into his grip, in a headlock of some kind. His arms are cutting off my airways and I'm struggling to breathe, clawing at his arms but I'm losing too much air to have any impact whatsoever. Katniss aims an arrow at Cato's head, but he just laughs. "Shoot me and he goes down with me." he says.

It's a stalemate, and I'm losing air quickly. I feel myself beginning to pass out, patches of black blossoming in my vision. I feel blood rushing down my thigh, the wound has opened up again badly through all of this. Even with my blackening vision, I try to tap my forefinger on the back of Cato's hand, telling Katniss _shoot here_. He'll let go, and I could breathe.

Katniss takes my idea. She shoots the arrow into his hand, crying out and realising me. I can barely stand through the lack of breath, but Katniss manages to catch me before Cato topples off the horn and into the hoard of mutts below.

I breathe deeply, taking in every breath of glorious air that I can. We hear Cato land on the floor, the mutts attacking him. I hold onto Katniss for dear life. I won't feel like this is all over, like we've actually won, until the cannon blows.

It doesn't happen yet. The Gamemakers hold back on sending it. All Katniss and I can do is hold each other, listening to the snarls and the growls and Cato's cries of pain. Hours pass, and there is still no cannon. I can't think about what pain he is feeling as they kill him slowly, but some sick pain inside me reels, thinking of how he made me try to die slowly.

The flow of blood from my thigh won't calm down, and I'm losing blood quickly. My face pales, my head hurting. Katniss rips off her jacket and takes her shirt off, then whips the jacket back on quickly. She uses the shirt to try to make a bandage, but it's clear it isn't enough. I'm losing blood too fast and it's pretty sure I'm going to bleed out soon. Maybe I'll even die quicker than Cato.

 _No, no_. I've come this far. I can't do this. I can't lose now.

Katniss tries to make a tourniquet from an arrow, and I clench my teeth in pain. She bandages the rest of my leg with the shirt and lies down with me. There isn't much else she can do.

"Don't go to sleep," she orders to me. I can feel the fear in her voice. I know that I'm going to hold on for her, hold on for us. I can't lose this, I can't lose the love we have. I've waited for this my whole life. I'm going to do this, I'm going to do this.

"Are you cold?" I ask after a little while. The temperature is dropping rapidly for some reason, ice forming on the metal of the Cornucopia. I take the jacket and wrap it round the both of us. She squishes into me further, and I try to hold onto her as tightly as I can. I keep repeating to myself that I can do this, I'm going to do this...

"Cato may win this thing yet," Katniss whispers.

"Don't you believe it," I say, shaking.

Hours and hours pass. Cato is begging and whimpering to be let go from life, to end the pain. It is more torturous to hear than the cold is to feel.

"Why don't they just kill him?" Katniss asks.

"You know why," I say, pulling her even closer.

It goes on and on and on. Eventually, all I can think of is Cato and his cries. I begin to doze off slightly, but Katniss keeps shouting at me every time I close my eyes. I keep trying to fight it, fight off the blackness for her, but it's hard. I can see in Katniss' eyes are desperate, desperate to keep me alive. My fingernails dig into life, willing for it to keep me here, just a little longer, just a little longer...

I point out the shifting of the moon. Time is passing. The sun rises after a long, long while. Katniss opens her eyes against the pale light. Still non cannon has fired.

"I think he's closer now. Katniss, can you shoot him?" I ask. I can't listen to it any more. I can't hold onto life much longer, either.

"My last arrow's in your tourniquet," she says meekly.

"Make it count," I say, unzipping my jacket. I smile at her softly.

She frees the arrow, which also frees the pain. She rubs her hands together before putting the arrow into her bow and aiming it. It takes her a few moments to find wherever his body is as the mutts have dragged it into the Cornucopia itself. In seconds, the arrow flies into him, ending his misery. "Did you get him?" I whisper. In answer, the canon fires. "Then we won, Katniss," I say hollowly. The life is draining from me, blood falling out of my leg like water from a tap.

"Hurray for us," she says, joyless. The mutts disappear, bored now Cato is dead. We wait for the hovercraft to come, but nothing does. "Hey!" Katniss shouts into the air. "What's going on?"

"Maybe it's the body. Maybe we have to move away from it," I say, remembering that you have to distance yourself from the body. I have no idea how I'll be able to move, but I know I have to. I have to do this. To win, to go back home, to be with Katniss. To be with Katniss.

"OK. Think you could make it to the lake?" she asks.

"Think I better try," I say. We inch down the Cornucopia, leaving a little blood trail as I do. Katniss holds most of me, dragging me along to the lake. It's difficult, but we make it. She scoops water into my lips as soon as we get there. I feel nothing but relief when the hovercraft comes and takes Cato's body away. Now they'll take us. Now we can go home.

But there's nothing.

I don't know how much longer I can stay alive. The blackness is calling me. "What are they waiting for?" I say.

"I don't know," Katniss says.

Claudius Templesmith's voice booms into the arena a few seconds after Katniss speaks. "Greetings to the final contestants of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games. The earlier revision has been revoked. Closer examination of the rule book has disclosed that only one winner may be allowed," he says. "Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favour."

There's a solid silence in the air between us both. Katniss stares at me in disbelief as the truth sinks in that they never wanted us both to live. It was all a trick. Something to entertain the audience. Now won't this be a fun little kick?

"If you think about it, it's not that surprising," I say softly. I try to make it to my feet, with pain rushing through me and blood down my leg. I move toward her, taking the knife in my belt and throwing it to the lake. Katniss misinterprets my actions and gets her bow and arrow ready, pointing it at my heart. Once she realises what I meant, she slowly drops the weapon. "No," I protest, limping over and thrusting the bow back in her hand. "Do it."

"I can't," she chokes. "I won't."

"Do it. Before they send those mutts back or something. I don't want to die like Cato," I say.

"Then you shoot me," she says furiously, shoving the bow back at me. "You shoot me and go home and live with it!"

"You know I can't," I say. _I love you too much_ , I think to myself, but I can't make myself say the words. "Fine, I'll go first anyway." I say, ripping the bandage off my leg and letting the blood flow freely.

"No, you can't kill yourself," Katniss says, desperation lining her voice as she kneels down to me and puts the bandage back on.

"Katniss," I say. "It's what I want."

"You're not leaving me here alone," Katniss says. Even now, with blackness trying to take over and blood loss making me heavily confused, I love her so much. I loved her in my first days, and I will love her in my last.

"Listen," I say, pulling her to her feet. "We both know they have to have a victor. It can only be one of us. Please, take it. For me." I beg. "I love you," I say in a small voice even though her eyes have gone distant. "I love you, and life... life without you would be nothing. I couldn't... Please, Katniss, please just... Stay alive."

But she isn't listening. She's gone into her head and she stays there for a minute or so, leaving me hanging. Suddenly, she begins to fumble around in the pouch on her belt, grabbing something from the purse. It's the nightlock berries. The ones that kill you instantly.

I grab her wrist. "No, I won't let you." I say firmly.

"Trust me," she whispers, so softly. I hold her gaze before letting her wrist go. She takes a spoonful of the berries and puts them into my palm, then gets some for herself. "On the count of three?"

I lean down and kiss her. Our last kiss. I love her. "The count of three," I stand, holding each others empty hands. "Hold them out. I want everyone to see," I say.

She spreads her fingers out. We count together. "One. Two. Three."

We put them in our mouths, but as soon as we do, the trumpets blare. Claudius' voice shouts above them. "Stop! Stop!" he says. "Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victors of the seventy-fourth Hunger Games, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark! I give you - the tributes of District 12!"


	26. Chapter 26

**PART THREE | THE VICTOR**

 **CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX**

* * *

We both spew the berries from our mouths, wiping the juice off our tongues. I pull Katniss to the edge of the lake where we both wash our mouths out with water before collapsing into each others arms.

"You didn't swallow any?" she asks me.

I shake my head. "Did you?"

"Guess I'd be dead by now if I did," she says.

"I'm glad you're not," I say, but my words are drowned out by the sound of the cheers of the Capitol that they're playing throughout the arena, live through the speakers. A hovercraft materialises in the air, two ladders dropping. Katniss keeps an arm on me at all times, even as we're being taken up by the ladders and into the hovercraft. Blood is dripping into the air as I'm being taken up, and it's hard not to let the blackness take me now. Now that I know she's alive and going to go back home.

Her fingers grip on the back of my jacket that when they tear us apart, it breaks off in her hand. I'm slipping in and out of conciousness, barely taking in anything going on around me. Tubes are being put in me, doctors buzzing around me like bees. One thing I see clearer than anything is Katniss being taken away from me.

"Katniss," I manage to choke out, just before the blackness takes over.

* * *

I wake to a sterile sounding beep going off.

I try to move my body, but something is wrong. My leg is incredibly heavy and I can't move it very well. _What is going on?_ I ask myself. Looking down the hospital bed that I'm in, I notice that it's not my leg. It's... a leg. But not mine.

It's odd... it looks like my leg, but it isn't. It's fake. It's not mine. They amputated my leg. I don't have a leg.

I begin to panic slightly, and the beeping gets louder ad quicker. A doctor comes in swiftly, trying to calm me down. They explain everything. How they had to get rid of my leg, how there was no way it could have been saved; but it doesn't help me accept it nonetheless.

It takes days for me to be able to walk properly on the thing, but the Capitol technology is so advanced that it's easy to get the hang of it.

I ask about Katniss every single day, but they barely let me know anything about how she is except that she's alive.

After a while, I really learn how to use the leg properly and they allow me to go see Haymitch, Effie and Portia. I meet them in a chamber near the end of a hallway where they wait for me. They give me congratulations, Effie crying and emotional.

"Well done," Haymitch whispers to me. "You did it."

"Where is Katniss? Is she okay? Is she with Cinna? She's all right, isn't she? Alive? They didn't do anything to her, did they? Where is she?" I babble.

"Calm, calm," Haymitch says, a hand on my shoulder.

"Oh, Peeta, she's fine, she's _fine_ ," Effie gushes. "She was just as worried about you!"

"Yes," Haymitch says gruffly. "She's fine. They want you to do the reunion live on television at the ceremony."

"Oh... OK," I say, disappointed. Part of me hates that we have to see each other again, properly for the first time out of the arena, in front of everybody. It feels like a private moment that should just be for us two, but another part of me is glad that I'm just going to see her at all. That it worked. That she's alive. That she's going home, seeing her family, her sister.

"Go with Portia," Effie says to me. "She's going to get you ready so that you can meet again." she squeals in delight as I walk off with Portia.

It's odd to be back with Portia, in these rooms. So much has changed in just a couple of weeks that nothing feels the same any more. Everything has changed.

The prep team engulf me for a few hours. They preen my skin, ridding all the scars from me, getting rid of any hair on my body and my head and washing me down thoroughly with the same gritty soap they used in my first few days. When they're finally done, I look in the mirror for the first time since I left the Capitol.

I've lost so much weight. All my muscle definition has gone, and I can count my ribs like an xylophone. I'm much cleaner, my skin pink and shining, but my fake leg is awful. I hate it so much. But what would I have preferred, really? Dying? No... I wouldn't. So I will learn to love it. It's better to be alive with a fake leg, then dead with both my original legs.

Portia dressed me in a sweet blue suit, charmingly innocent. I'm glad it covers my leg up, but then I try to remember I'm supposed to be loving myself.

She leads me to the elevator, the one Katniss so was enthused with when we first were here. So many memories are flooding back, and I begin to shake with excitement and nervousness at seeing her again. I love her so much.

All I want is to see her again.


	27. Chapter 27

**PART THREE | THE VICTOR**

 **CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN**

* * *

I'm ready and waiting. The anthem booms in my ears, Caeser Flickerman's voice greeting the audience. The crowd breaks out into a deafening roar, clapping and screaming for the star-crossed lovers of District 12.

Effie is introduced to the stage, and I can see how much she's lapping all of it up. Her wishes of finally being in a winning District came true; and she not only has one victor, but two. An unforgettable pair of victors at that. Portia and Cinna both receive immense cheers, too and even Haymitch's appearance brings a round of applause and stomping that lasts for ages.

I'm starting to think it's not going to stop, that I'll never get to see her again until the lights blind me. If I thought the crowds noise was deafening before, I knew nothing. They scream for us as we walk across the stage to each other.

Katniss appears from the light, wearing a yellow dress that gives her faux curves. Obviously they don't want the Capitol to see just how underfed Katniss is - they want to project her as beauty and grace. But she is beauty and grace, already. She doesn't need anything changing about her ( _except maybe her attitude sometimes_ , I joke to myself).

I fall in love with her more anyway. She amazes me; her smile white and bright and dragging me in.

Caeser makes a few jokes and then begins the show properly. My heart is pounding as we watch images of the tributes flash on the screen. We watch as they go through a quick recap of the Games, but I have to try to block everything out because it's too much. I already see all of it flash beneath my eyes whenever they close... I can't see it again on a screen.

The worst thing, though, is hearing it. Hearing as Cato promises to make my death slow and painful. Hearing Rue and Katniss bond, hearing Katniss scream and cry when she is grieving for Rue. The only things I can stand to hear from all of it is the happenings between me and Katniss in the cave, watching as we fall in love. They spin a love story from all of the highlights in the show, glossing over the grisly murders and deaths this year. It's one of the first times that has ever happened.

A lot of cheering follows the recaps and Caeser ends the show. Katniss and I are taken to the presidents mansion for the victory banquet. We have very little time to eat, and we are restricted on what we're allowed to gorge on because everything is too decadent for our delicate stomachs right now. The whole time, Katniss never lets go of my hand.

When I finally think I will get a moment alone with Katniss, Portia takes me away to get me fitted into a new outfit.

"Why can't I talk to her?" I ask, feeling annoyed. All I want is to do is talk to her.

"You will have time to talk after the programme at two o'clock tomorrow," Portia purrs.

I feel like something is up, because the fitting barely lasts ten minutes before I get sent to my room. After a couple hours of restlessness, thinking of nothing but Katniss, I try to go to find her, but I'm locked in my room. The doorknob clicks, resisting to be turned. Confusion and anxiety take over. Why won't they let me see her?

Eventually, I fall asleep at some point when exhaustion takes over. When I wake, all I can do is order some breakfast and wait for the prep team to take me away to get me ready for the next televised show. The prep team buzzes around me soon after I finish eating. Portia dresses me. Everything passes by in such a blur. It feels like none of it is really happening... I want Katniss. I _need_ Katniss.

Reality is finally broken into for me when I'm on stage. Katniss is wearing a sweet white dress, emitting a rosy glow that warms my insides. Despite Caeser Flickerman being there, I pull Katniss to the side straight away. There's nobody to stop me.

"I hardly get to see you. Haymitch seems bent on keeping us apart." I say.

"Yes, he's got very responsible lately." she says passively, in an odd and distant tone of voice.

"Well, there's just this and we go home. Then he can't watch us all the time," I say.

We both go to sit down on the double seat that fits us both on it, but pushes us together at the same time. "Oh, go ahead and curl up next to him if you want. it looked very sweet." Caeser says, which encourages Katniss to tuck her feet up. I pull her in close to me, sniffing her hair. She smells just like the roses of the shower. It intoxicates me.

Caeser starts the show, teasing and joking and being his extroverted and lovable self to the cameras. I try to help out with the banter, and he makes it so easy; it's like a special talent or power he has.

"Well, Peeta, we know, from our days in the cave, that it was love at first sight for you from what, age five?" Caeser asks.

"From the moment I laid eyes on her," I say.

"But, Katniss, what a ride for yo. I think the real excitement for the audience was watching you fall for him. When did you realise you were in love with him?" he asks.

I hold my breath. These are the sort of questions I'm too scared to ask, but I feel so much comfort knowing that she loves me too. Everybody else can see it, and I felt it... She loves me, too. "Oh, that's a hard one..." Katniss begins, giving a light laugh.

"Well, I know when it hit me. The night when you shouted out his name from that tree," Caeser tells her.

"Yes, I guess that was it. I mean, until that point, I just tried not to think about what my feelings might be, honestly, because it was so confusing and only made things worse if I actually cared about him. But then, in the tree, everything changed," she says.

"Why do you think that was?" probes Caeser.

"Maybe... because for the first time... there was a chance I could keep him," she says. My heart lurches with love, and I grip her tighter, unable to look away from her. I realise I must look incredibly dazed and in love, but I can't look away from her. She's too perfect. Her saying these things... it's all too perfect. I never could have imagined that Katniss would ever love me back. Ever.

I turn to her, press my forehead against hers and smile. "So, now that you've got me, what are you going to do with me?" I ask.

She turns into me, her lips inches away from mine. "Put you somewhere you can't get hurt." she says. I kiss her deeply, my tongue lightly licking her lip. It's the most intimate kiss we've had yet, and I can't help but wish there were no cameras, no Caeser. Just Katniss and I.

We break away, and I'm completely breathless, but my attention is taken by Caeser as he begins to chat a bit more about simpler things. He asks me a bit about my new leg.

"New leg?" Katniss asks, confused. She reaches and pulls up the bottom of my trousers. I can't help but feel a little uncomfortable; I'm not used to my leg yet and now it's going to be on television all across Panem. "Oh, no," Katniss whispers, in-taking a breath at the metal and plastic device that has replaced my leg. It looks so fake here, with all these lights blaring on it.

"No one told you?" Caeser asks gently.

Katniss shakes her head; I give a slight shrug. "I haven't had the chance," I say.

"It's my fault," she says, her face miserable. "Because I used that tourniquet."

"Yes, it's your fault I'm alive," I say, sarcasm tinting my words.

"He's right," Caeser interjects. "He'd have bled to death for sure without it."

Katniss looks almost tearful, so I hold her closer and encourage her to bury her head into my shirt. We embrace each other tightly. A few more mundane questions fly by and Katniss eventually comes out from my shirt, feeling a little more confident. I kiss her cheek lightly when she does.

When Caeser gets to the berry incident, everything feels slightly awkward, even for Caeser. "Katniss, I know you've had a shock, but I've got to ask. The moment when you pulled out those berries. What was going on in your mind... hm?" he asks.

Katniss pauses for a long time. "I don't know, I just... couldn't bare the thought of... being without him."

"Peeta? Anything to add?"

"No. I think that goes for both of us," I say.

And like that, the show is over with a flourish. Caeser signs off and it's all over.

"OK?" Katniss whispers to me.

"Perfect," I say. It's all over. We can finally just... be together.

* * *

We pack up in our rooms before meeting in the train again. There's so little time to say goodbye to both Cinna and Portia and it's tough, even though I know I'll see them both again in a couple of months for the victory ceremonies in the winter. We go around the Districts, celebrating our win with the people who lost. It's not going to be easy, but it's months away and I try to take it away from my brain. For now, I just have time with Katniss; and I can't wait.

The train move and I feel a lot of hopefulness for the fact I'll be seeing my family again. I have barely thought of them the entire weeks, never believing that I would make it home. I wonder what my mother will say, what the whole of the District will say.

When we make a brief fuel stop, I go out into the fresh air with Katniss. I gather a couple of wild flowers that I see growing on the side of the tracks, but when I give them to her she looks nothing but strained and tense.

"What's wrong?" I ask her.

"Nothing," she answers. We continue walking in silence until Haymitch suddenly joins us.

"Great job, you two. Just keep it up in the District until the cameras are gone. We should be OK." he says, returning back to the train where he came from.

 _Keep it up_? I ask myself, confused. I turn to Katniss, but she's avoiding my stare. "What's he mean?" I ask her.

"It's the Capitol. They didn't like our stunt with the berries," she blurts out.

"What? What are you talking about?" I say, perplexed.

"It seemed too rebellious. So Haymitch has been coaching me through the last few days. So I didn't make it worse," she says.

"Coaching you? But not me," I say, still confused.

"He knew you were smart enough to get it right," she says.

"I didn't know there was anything to get right," I say, trying to place the puzzle pieces in my mind into a picture. "So, what your saying is, these last few days and then I guess... back in the arena... that was just some strategy you worked out." My cheeks flush red. What is happening? What is going on? Where did any of this... come from?

"No. I mean, I couldn't even talk to him in the arena, could I?" she stammers.

"But you knew what he wanted you to do, didn't you?" I say. She bites her lip. It's all the answer I need. I drop her hand, and she seems to lose some balance. "It was all for the Games. How you acted."

The words settle like pebbles in my stomach, my mouth going dry. It was all an act. She didn't love me. She never did. It was all a big lie. She... she doesn't love me.

"Not all of it," she says, tightening her grip on the flowers I gave her earlier.

"Then how much? No, forget that. I guess the real question is, what's going to be left when we get home?" I say, the heartbreak showing through in my voice. It cracks whenever I speak.

"I don't know. The closer we get to District 12, the more confused I get," she says.

I wait for more explanation, but it's clear none is coming. What is coming is intense pain. More intense than anything I ever felt in the arena. "Well, let me know when you work it out," I say; then I have to walk away because I know I'm going to break down.

I go into my room back in the train, lock the door and don't come out until we reach District 12. I cry the whole time. When we finally get there, I am hollowed out and empty. Exhausted and heartbroken.

Just before we have to leave the train, I extend my hand. "One more time? For the audience?" I say.

Her hand slips into mine, warm and beautiful. It'll be the last time I get to touch her. I hold on tightly, preparing for the cameras and already dreading the moment I will finally have to let go.

* * *

 **END OF BOOK ONE**


	28. Authors Word

**Hello! My name is Leona (pen name: markwatney) and I just want to thank you so much for reaching the end of my story.**

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It means so much to me that anybody out there is reading my writing. I am going through a difficult time in my life right now, and writing this story has been so amazing for me. I get so excited to tell you all the tale of how _The Hunger Games_ went from Peeta's point of view. Every single review, favourite and follow I get fills me with happiness and I would love it so much if you went to my profile and checked out the second story in my little Peeta's POV series, _Catching Fire_. Once again, thank you _so so so_ much for reading my story.

You have no idea how happy it makes me. I would love it you could leave a review telling me what you thought. I message all my reviews back with my thanks.

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Please note: all storylines, characters, plot, etc. belong to Suzanne Collins.

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 **Check out the second book in the series (Peeta's POV in Catching Fire) by going to my profile and clicking on the story labelled 'CATCHING FIRE PEETA'S POV' - I really hope you like it!**


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